The definition of Grief: Deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone’s death.

The thing about grief, is it is like walking around in a mine field. You never know exactly when someone will say something that will open the flood gates, get a text that will send you over the tearful edge, or an email with loving sentiment about your lost loved one, that will cause you to crawl back into bed and not want to get back out. Today was one of those days. I received a text asking if and when I could help clean out my mom’s closet, her clothes, shoes, and other personal affects. It seared me, it sent me into the oblivion of tears so deep, it was hard to breathe. I am not sure how I will face the clothes, the cleaning of the closet, the slow movements that we must take to clean out and clear up the personal affects of someone we loved so much. I am afraid. I am deeply afraid the clothes will smell like her and I will not survive that. I am afraid I will want to keep all of her clothes, and not be able to let any of them go. I am afraid I will feel differently about her personal affects than my step-dad or anyone else who loves her. I am afraid. There is no guidebook for what lies in my future. Yesterday, there were no mine fields. Just the empty space of her glaring absence in my life. Today, mine fields where abundant and I felt like I could not take one step forward. Some day, I will write about my mom. Some day, I will write about our amazing friendship and the wonderful times spent and perhaps, that will help explain the depths of my pain. But for now, all I have is grief, remorse about time and this huge gaping hole in my life where my mom used to be.