There are endless ways to feel grief, each unique in how it penetrates your soul and deadens your spirit. Uncompromising is its destructive path, leaving your mind riddled with holes, laden with debris, scarred like dragging dead weight through sand. Some bullets are so destructive they leave spaces where you'll never tread again. Barbs gouge wounds that spew their waste, the never-ending stench of which rots the place it has stolen. And in the sand, the pattern hardens and cements the anguish into the soles of your feet. Grief eventually will consume all that's in its path, gulping savagely as it robs you and finishes you off with a loud, stinking belch.
caccy46, whose full catalog is here, is a mother of two who's been married for 32 years.