Grief is… by Duane L. Herrmann

That darkness that clouds the mind, that numbness that renders activity pointless, that blackness that negates all joy, that grayness that makes movement difficult, that dullness that saps emotion, that emptiness that leads to a deep void, that bleakness that obliterates the future, that pain that takes away words. The earth has lost its balance, careening out of control, nothing is the same, nothing is real, this can’t be true! He can’t be dead!! Not that little boy I’ve loved, the one I held above me, whose drool was cool and sweet when it hit my mouth; the one who had a fit when I had to leave, the only one I played catch with, the one I induled in New York City, who I took on pilgrimage to the Bahá’í World Center in Haifa, Israel, the first of his generation in my life. The one smarter than a team of older men who still, years later, could not figure out how he had created such a computer program, the one who saw through fakeness presented as polite. The hole in my heart that can never now be filled.

There are no words…