To process her loss, she shuts herself in her room and paints and paints until the floor and her desk are covered with drawings. And as she finishes a drawing she seems happy with, something dark begins swimming in the water. As she flips through the other pictures, that dark object continues to chase her characters away.
Someone in my life asked innocently why in the world the characters were running away from something, and what they were running away from. "From the darkness of her grief. It scared them, so they ran," I said. And I dare say I would know.
In the grief and loss books I've buried myself in over the past few months, something has surface that has scared me. Sometimes, grief drives people away. I often feel like Beatrix Potter, with something dark in my heart and eyes that makes people run away from me. Run away from my heartache. From my tears. From my grief. It scares people. It's not a fun or easy thing to walk through with someone. In fact, it's quite difficult and terrifying. It's unknown. Grief and Loss are not math equations that are predictable or follow a set pattern or rules every time. They are dark and stormy seas. And in these seas swim dark and terrible creatures; and they all have names. Sadness. Depression. Anxiety. Hurt. Anger. It's impossible at times to see to the other side, and you don't know when these creatures will come up and bite you.
But one thing can be known: it is much easier to cross this stormy sea with friends alongside. No matter how long the journey may take.
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