fasih khokhar
391 posts
Mar 03, 2025
5:37 PM
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Grief comes in waves, unpredictable and relentless. One moment, you may feel like you're looking at solid ground, able to function, even smile. Then, out of nowhere, a memory, a tune, a familiar scent crashes over you, pulling you under. The type of grief is not linear—it does not follow a direct path of healing. Instead, it ebbs and flows like the tide, sometimes gentle, sometimes overwhelming. You may be thinking you've made peace together with your loss, simply to be blindsided by a rigorous wave of sorrow. This unpredictability could make grief feel a lot more isolating, as if no body else understands why you're suddenly struggling again. But the reality is, that is normal. Grief is not a thing we “get over”; it becomes an integral part of us, shifting and changing over time.
At first, the waves are constant, leaving little room to breathe. The pain is raw, fresh, and consuming, like being caught in a storm without any sight of the shore. Every reminder of that which was lost feels such as a punch to the chest. The simplest tasks become difficult, as grief drains energy and motivation. The world moves on, but you are feeling stuck, unable to flee the cycle of sadness. With time, however, the waves become less frequent. They don't disappear, however they come with an increase of space in between, allowing moments of light to shine through. You may find yourself laughing again, enjoying small things, even feeling an expression of normalcy. But, just when you think you've found solid ground, another wave hits. This can be frustrating, even discouraging—why, after so much progress, does the pain return? Because grief is love with nowhere to go, and love does not have an expiration date grief comes in waves.
Eventually, you figure out how to navigate the waves, even if they never fully stop. You begin to identify when they're coming, and you develop approaches to brace yourself. Some waves are small, just a ripple of sadness that passes quickly. Others are overwhelming, knocking you off the feet, forcing one to sit along with your pain throughout again. But with time, you realize that you will be not drowning anymore. You're learning how to float, how exactly to ride the waves in place of resisting them. The pain is still there, however it no further consumes you. You carry your loss differently—never as a weight that drags you down, but as part of you, woven into your life. Healing doesn't mean forgetting; it means learning how to live with the waves in place of fearing them.
And perhaps the most important realization is that grief's waves do not only bring sorrow—they also bring love, connection, and memory. Each wave is an indication of how deeply you cared, of the moments you shared, of the impact they'd on your own life. Although the pain may be sharp, it is proof that love never truly leaves us. The waves can come unexpectedly, and they could bring tears, but additionally they carry warmth. They remind you that even in loss, there's love. Over time, you find that the waves of grief do not merely pull you under—they also carry you forward, guiding you toward healing in their own unpredictable way.
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