Where grief found me
Grief found me as a child. Of course, I had just turned 18 so I wasn't really a child at all.
Was it part of finally becoming an adult? The world's gift to me, along with the right to vote.
The next year when it was time for me to put that right to use, I could not get off the floor.
I did not care for it. I only wanted grief to leave me.
Grief found me in my bedroom. This place of wonder filled with the pains of growing up. It found me standing on the floor with my heart racing in my chest. I did not know what was smaller: me, or the room that was closing in on me.
Perhaps grief didn't find me at all. It can't possibly have been me, hearing the news of death. It can't have been me, going to see the dead body of my mother. It can't have been me, on the floor crying for death to claim me too. No, grief never found me, and I was a happy child finally turning into an adult.
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