- And out of the cosmos steps grief. Right away, someone wants to measure it. As if there is a way to gauge its depth or length or width or time limit. As if there are discrete, measurable stages to grief. As if there is a package with instructions and a best before date for grief. .. No one can really say what grief is, except for what it is for them: a weight, a wave, a cloud, an ache, a pain, a pool, a fog, a puddle, an echo, a canyon. A sense of gone. A breath that’s needed but can’t be caught. .
Maybe we measure grief to see if it fits, how much space it needs to be itself or to hold it close and feel the loss that beckoned grief from the cosmos. Maybe we measure it to say a day or week is enough of a visit. Or maybe we don’t measure it and let it be what it needs to be, and how it needs to be with us for as long as we need. .
.. Acrylic paint and paper collage on paper ( a page in my art practice book). .