Grief.
Grief.
Strange grief.
One moment it numbs you.
Holding you in denial.
And disbelief.
And the next.
It drowns you in
torrents of tears.
Like a fierce summer
rainstorm.
Where you can barely hold on.

Grief.
Grief.
Strange grief.
One moment you relish
in your new freedom.
Your new life.
And the next.
You miss them so much
that it feels like a slow death.

Grief.
Grief.
Strange grief.
All that you knew and loved.
Is not there anymore.
And in its place.
Is an empty void.
So hard to endure.
Sometimes you long for things
to be.
As they were before.
When you sit alone.
Pondering.
How life once was.
When your family was together.

Grief.
Grief.
Strange grief.
Oh, when will come relief?
Can time really heal this great wound?
Perhaps a little.
Yet the depth of the wound,
and the number of scars,
can only truly be healed.
By the Man of Sorrows.

Grief.
Grief.
Strange grief.
Will I ever feel whole and complete again?
When it feels like half of me has been
ripped away.
Leaving a gaping hole.

The Man of Sorrows.
Whispers to my soul.
"It is not irreparable."
I collapse in His arms.
And pour out my grief.
Grief.
Strange grief.
And He makes me whole.
Again.