A pebble tossed in a lake may go in with a splash or it may enter silently. But it always, always leaves a ripple. A ripple that starts where it lands and ends only at the outer banks of the water body.
Grief is a lot like that.
Rippling, silently throughout our life. People notice the moment our heart breaks. The moment the surface of us as we know it is pierced. It’s not always loud, but at least a few look you way when it happens. Then, after a moment they turn and walk away, and few ever look back.
It’s a painful thing living in the silent ripples. The ripples that grow bigger and bigger and surround more of you- and nobody’s there to notice them. Nobody to help. You just live the ripples. Survive despite your surface being broken. Sometimes survival is all you can do.
Grief isn’t like a small pond though where a ripple will reach the outer banks quickly and fade away. It’s ripple never ends. It’s ongoing, as a ripple in the ocean would be. It changes. It grows. It fades. But it never ends.
Sometimes rain comes and disturbs your silent ripple, Causing more of its own ripples amidst yours. Sometimes another pebble gets thrown in, and you have more ripples not only to live in but to endure and one day, sort out. Grief is complicated and misunderstood. It is forgotten by many and burdensome to those who carry it.
It is silent, and yet screaming.