Grief is like a deep pool you fall into from time to time.  One moment you are walking along life’s weary path and the next you are drowning. Eye achingly broken, flogged by tears and wails and such a profound sense of brokenness and loss, you think the pain will never stop.
You just want it to stop.
Stop!
You over identify with every tragic death, a child on the news, a much loved celebrity, a black panther. Someone else’s child, mother, father.
It’s not real.
It’s not me.
It’s not mine.
Because my own grief is huge enough to rip me from this mortal coil and fling me wasted upon the compost heap of a universe that thrives on the energy of pointless, chaotic, happenstance.
You have to run with it.
Ride the wave.
Let it wash over you and engulf you and even though you feel like you are going to drown, just breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe until the breaths get easier.
The dead,  stone, heart, centre of your being will remain as you pick yourself up and get on with it.
Get on with it.
Keep going.
One step at a time.
One breath at a time.
For even though when you are drowning in the pool you think there is nothing else.
That this is how it will always be.
You have to know that this is not so.
The road beckons and you must travel it.
One step at a time.
One eye aching, heavy, broken hearted, step after another.