An Open Letter to Grief

Dear Grief:

It feels impossible to write this letter to you without using some choice words. You are the meanest of mean. You only arrive at the doorstep to my soul when something horrible happens. First my husband, then my grandfather, now my grandmother. You showed up after so many disappointments in my life and brought with you your allies: rage, jealousy, guilt, animosity, anger, resentment, rebellion, selfishness, sadness, depression.

When you come around you completely overshadow hope, faith, dreams, love, life...you just suffocate all of them until there's nothing left but you and your friends. You know what? I hate you. I hate you for what you stand for. I hate that you take so much of me with you whenever you are present. I hate that you are so powerful that each time I have to face you I break down like a child. I hate that you exist and that I have to deal with you despite every bone in my body wanting to say "NO, I AM NOT SAD". But yet, you're still there, eating me alive.

But today? Today someone showed me hope. Today someone told me about refocusing all of you and your friends towards something GOOD. OH yes, you heard me you bastard. Something GOOD. Somehow along this shitty journey I am going to use you, and what you do to people, to actually help them! You didn't think it was possible did you? Well it is!

Because when you take all those things from someone, you leave them bare, you leave them open to seeing things differently. And with that, it leaves them able to be open to new dreams in life, to fill the voids you have left with hope, faith, dreams, love-all over again.

While you may come back time and time again, each time I will have built myself up a little bit stronger that you can only seep back into my pores just a little bit. And when, at times, you try to take over, you may get me down for a little while, but no matter what, you cannot steal my spirit. You can NEVER steal that. Because it is so much stronger than you and what you brought with you.

My spirit is like the paper to your rock, like scissor to your paper, like the rock to your scissor-you get the point? It always wins. It will always win. You will never win-you will never take or destroy me. You and your friends can try and try again, but I am gonna beat you to a pulp. I know I cannot destroy you, but I can damned well try. And in the meantime I am gonna smile because everytime I do, you die a little bit. So see my Colgate whites-bring it Grief.

Bring it.