It is a wearisome place to stand- on an isle between two griefs, trapped between the loss of my child and the loss of my father. Two heartaches. Two anguishes. Two sorrows.

I’ve taken up residence here on this small piece of earth, surrounded by an ocean of my own tears.

It’s lonely.

But one day the water will start to ebb, the waves won’t crash on the shore and eat away at the ground beneath my feet. The soil will harden and I’ll stand on dry land once again.

The angry tide will give way to a gentle lapping, a soothing sound filled with memory and mirth, and I’ll forget the rage of the storm that brought me here.

This is grief.