Grief is an old friend of mine. We run into each other in the most random places. 

“We must stop meeting like this!” I shriek. 

Like a friend one bumps into on a busy street corner. Only to be completely disoriented for the rest of the day. 

Sometimes we exchange pleasantries and ask how the other is doing before deciding to spend some time together. 

Sometimes, the chance encounter is raw, quick and deep. 

It might be the lump I feel in my throat, as I check my phone. Wishing and hoping, yet knowing. Grief asks me to sit with that feeling. 

It might be the crease on my forehead, as I desperately try to control a situation that isn’t mine to control. Grief asks me to allow it. 

It might be the heavy ache that I get in my heart, when I remember the past. Grief asks me to miss it. 

It might be the hot, full tears running down my cheeks, as I give in. Grief asks me to release it. 

The problem with grief is that it has so many faces. You really don’t know who will turn up on that busy street corner. 

All that’s bottled up inside comes gushing out at the most inconvenient times. Reliving past memories and hurts, Grief is an old spirit friend that changes avatars through life’s stages to insist I sit, allow, miss, release. 

It’s a friend who always has a lesson to teach. 

Sometimes, I see her turning the street corner from afar, making her way over to me. 

Sometimes, she sneaks up on me, rendering me incapable of ignoring her.

Either way, I gulp in anticipation.

I wonder what she’ll ask me to let go of this time? 

What shall I do with that empty space in my soul’s house? How shall I decorate it? 

I have no answers. 

Only the truth that I feel. 

I’m going to ride the wave and see where it takes me.