The after in 2023

I want to scream. Long and loud, until my throat is dry and my voice nothing more than a cracked whisper.

Scream and rage and cry. Thump my fists into the ground, the air, myself. Roar until there are no more tears, no more ache, no more hollow emptiness.

Maybe then? Maybe then I would feel something. Anything would be better than this .. nothingness.

Grief is such a singular word for an emotion that is all encompassing. All consuming. Endless. It’s a thing that happens to you .. not something you simply feel.

There is a before … and an after.

An existence split distinctly in two pieces with a blade so sharp that there was no warning, no preparation for the instantaneous amputation of everything you thought you knew.

And now, from this side of the yawning chasm that only grows wider with each painfully slow day that passes, I watch the before slip farther and farther away.

The after is bleak and barren and cold. I don’t like it here. Nothing grows. There are no sweet breezes carrying your laughter to me anymore. No soft touches and looks. There’s no you in the after.

Why can’t I go back to before? It’s far away now and there’s so much after left …