Flow Through Grief |from the Wild Isadora

Grief comes in various forms; however, the most relevant form, is loss. 
 
The loss of an idea. The loss of a love. The loss of an identity. The loss of someone. 
 
In order to have such loss there has to be an end; be it an end to a life, an end to a job, or an end to a season. 
 
Whatever “the end” is, it is the end. It’s done. It’s finished. That is it. No more. 
 
The end, by appearance seems so simple, so straight forward, sans complexities. 
 
Yet, with all it’s simplicities, the end seems to be the most complex and most difficult to overcome for any individual. The end is somewhat, and maybe, at most times, the most soul destroying, the most defeating, and perhaps, the most catastrophic for any individual.
 
So, then, lies the question of what exactly is the end?
 
In it’s simplicity “the end” is the mere termination, cancelation, conclusion of a “subject”. The “subject” as I will present throughout can be a person, a project, a dance, the list can go on and on. 
 
Therefore, what exactly is the reason why all these emotions are conjured up in one’s indelible soul? 
 
Why such attachment to something, that in its core, is so simple to which the subject undergoing such “ending” does not feel “the end”? 
 
After further self-examination one begins to discover that yes “the end” is simple. The complexity of the end only lies within us. 
 
Our doubts. Our shadows. Our regrets. Our past.
 
The “coulda” “shouldas” “woulda’s” and the “maybe if I’d have…” , fill in the blank.
 
The ending isn’t so detrimental to the subject. The subject just ends. The subject just finishes. The subject lives it’s season. 
 
As a result, the only conclusion could be that we mere humans, as selfish as we all are, make the ending about our own self.

"The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it,
move with it, and join the dance."
- Alan Watts

We take the time, when an ending occurs, to reflect on the things we didn’t do. The things we could have changed but were complacent. The days we could have spent, yet wrote it off as a tomorrow job. The words we missed out on saying. The hugs we should have given. 
 
The end is our reminder to reflect and once we do, we realize, we messed up. We realize we can’t go back. The door has shut behind us. No matter what we do it won’t open again. No abra kadabras possible here.
 
Once this stark reality hits, this is when we grieve.
 
I might dare say, this is when we grieve our own self. We don’t grieve the subject that is “ending” because what is there left to grieve, it’s done. In a matter fact way of saying it, the subject is done, nothing else to discuss. 
 
We grieve our own self because in some small measure, we grieve our own capability of realizing the present we had and the foolishness of claiming an ending would never occur. 
 
Life is a season. We see it every day. We are taught that everywhere, well as far as I’m aware of. 
 
We grieve because the absence of the subject, is our daily reminder of our lack of attention to that of which we had.
 
How, then, can someone heal a wound of stark realization when salt is continuously poured upon our scars?
 
You move forward, with baby steps; but you move forward. 
 
Each day that passes you put one foot in front of the other and you realize just how lucky you are to put that one foot in front of the other. 
 
You move forward with the baby steps, and you realize that you can either wait again for another “ending”, the ending that send you into a deep, deep reflection, or you can make sure when an “ending” does arrive, you are ready. 
 
You are ready because you realized just how lucky you were to put one foot in front of the other. You are ready because you realized that now is the right time to say that one thing you couldn’t find the right time for. You are ready because you realized that when you have reached your final destination, it’s better to leave the tank empty than wonder of all the other places you could’ve gone.
 
Grief isn’t easy, it’s tough; and, although people aren’t easy on themselves, they suddenly realize just how tough they truly are once they flow through grief. Grief is a moment, and it too shall pass.