Years can pass. You come to accept the different life devoid of your love. You go to work, socialize, engage in healthy activities, laugh, travel. You are in the world again and not the tiny black box of pain and no possibilities. Right.
And then a few days bounce into each other; you don’t feel well but still engage in work and with others, issues arise that are not in line with your thinking, things begin effecting you and the spiral begins. All of a sudden, in the middle of the angst around you, an image of your lost love pops in front of your eyes and that’s it, you’re gone. Tears rolling down your face, sobs shaking your body. At that moment it doesn’t matter if you are standing on the top of a ski hill, at the edge of an ocean, in a busy downtown street corner, just been handed a winning lottery ticket, in an elevator , in your bedroom….it doesn’t matter. You are now lost in grief, once again. Fuck.
It’s all consuming, as grief is. You want to go back. You want things to be the way they were. Everything swirls around you and time just pauses. The difference from before, is that there is a tiny window on the edge of your mind that you are aware of. And you know that this time you will not be lost in the dark hole, trapped in the black box for months and months and months. You know there is a window out and that the grief will not consume you this time.
But in that moment, oh God how you miss your love and want them back. For comfort, for advice, for love, for them.
And then you take a deep breath, open the window, and carry on.