Grief is physical

Grief is physical

Today I learned that grief is physical.
I am simultaneously numb, but I feel everything so acutely.
I thought I’d try to resume some normal activity. I’d walk to school to pick up Decky.
It’s never been so hard.
It took repeated Herculean effort to lift my leaden feet and place them in front of each other. The gentle warm breeze pummeled my tender body. My neck and shoulders ached with tension. I flinched at distant noises and felt nausea from the exertion of walking at a slow pace.
I have been terribly ill with this grief. It will take a while to get better. But I’m not going to hide beneath blankets. Not all the time anyway.
I’ll do the work.

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