I first saw this quote, comparing grief to an ocean, at N. N. Light‘s blog back in June.
I love this quote. I can’t think of a more apt analogy for grief than an ocean.
Grief begins with a shock akin to an earthquake of epic proportions, followed by a tsunami of emotions: disbelief, denial or anger or guilt, and above all an overwhelming sadness that engulfs your whole being. It takes a while for the tsunami to recede, leaving you feeling adrift in a turbulent ocean.
After a while, the turbulence decreases and there are periods of smooth sailing, but like the ocean, grief is seemingly endless and unpredictable. There will be squalls during which we experience what the professionals call a STUG: a short, temporary upsurge of grief. And sometimes there are storms of emotion. These usually occur at some pivotal moment: a holiday, a birthday, an anniversary, when thoughts of the lost loved one are impossible to deny or keep at bay.
And then the ocean smooths out again and we go back to living moment to moment, waiting for… we know not what. Does grief ever end? Not really, though the storms and squalls diminish over time until the loved one becomes a cherished memory rather than an open wound of the heart.
Today is the first wedding anniversary without my dear husband, so this topic is much on my mind. I have a distraction planned for today: a movie and dinner with a friend. So I expect I will weather this storm, too.
Sailboat near Monterey, one of our favorite vacation spots
I wish all of you smooth sailing.
Linda
A note about the photos: The first one was taken by me from the balcony of the Royal Princess as we were leaving Scotland in the North Sea. Photos two and three are licensed from bigstockphoto.com. The last photo was taken in Pacific Grove, CA. in 2006 on my last trip to the Monterey Peninsula with my husband.
Today I help you cry, {{{Linda}}}.
Sorry about that, Kim.
Sending you love and support.
Beautifully written. Beautiful pictures. Holding you in my thoughts and prayers today, Linda.
Thank you, Gillian. My distraction worked and yesterday wasn’t as bad as I feared. Anne and I really enjoyed seeing The Man From UNCLE, then we had a lovely seafood dinner afterwards.
All we lost was a precious cat. And our grief is nothing like one of us losing the other, but it hurts anyway. On the last day little Ella was alive, she carried a stuffed brown mouse to be with her. Now we sleep with that mouse on the bed between our pillows because that was where she slept with us. There is something comforting about having it there. She was a dark tortoiseshell, and the mouse mirrors her coloring. I discovered a beautiful, big white and gray bird drinking from a spot of water near her garden memorial one day. I’d never seen one like it before and have never found it in a bird book. One of my daughters-in-law said, “How sweet it was that the bird visited Ella’s grave.”
Ella loved to watch birds, but she was an indoor cat. I like to think her little spirit knows the birds visit her marker.
The good things you and Bob shared will be with you always, Linda. I’m so sorry he is gone and that grief is still with you. I’ve always thought that loving is why we grieve…if there had been no love we wouldn’t go through the devastation of loss.
Hugs and thoughts, Dee Ann
Grief is the price we pay for having loved.
So well said, Linda. My heart goes out to you as you carry on without your husband.
And your photos are amazing! That must have been quite an amazing voyage around England and Scotland.