THE BOG THAT IS GRIEF

Long and short of it- grief is pure shite.

It’s like a big endless bog that somehow ye have to keep trudging through, even on the days yer legs feel too heavy to move.

Some days the smallest thing can knock the stuffing clean outta ye. A smell, a song, an empty chair, a voice ye still expect to hear, the card ye go to lift then, with a gonk, ye remember... Other days ye can find yourself laughing, feeling warmth and gratitude, only for the pang of sadness to suddenly come creeping back in again.

Over time, ye will find the boardwalks start appearing amongst the bog. The grief doesn't magically disappear nor does the love lessen, but ye slowly grow around the pain. Ye learn how to carry it differently. How to keep going whilst still missing them terribly. How to hold both heartbreak and beautiful memories in the very same hand. How to not let the what ifs and what would've beens consume you.

That’s the thing about grief, it doesn’t move in formative lines and it doesn’t look the same for any two people.

And honestly, sometimes it’s hard to know what to say to someone who’s grieving because the truth is there often are no perfect words for this kinda pain. But wee bits of comfort, acknowledgement and knowing somebody is simply there beside ye can help more than people realise.