Grief is not love persevering, there’s a lot that happens in between.
When I was young, I found a crystal. I softened it with my dainty hands hoping it won’t cut anyone. Softened it with care and gave it love. I molded it into my being and then forgot about it. By the time I turned 18, the crystal had changed. Just like everything else. It became sharp, piercing, shinier and I don’t like it as much as I did when I was 8. The crystal reflects the past that never got a proper burial. It is what I always talk about but seldom thought it would affect me. I remember gifting my crystal to the ocean waves. I also remember seafoam bringing it to the shore whenever it became hard to handle. No matter what way I tried to give it away, it lingered, always. The crystal became grief. And grief is not love persevering, because love isn’t a destination to be reached, or a level you find after sorrow ends. Because sorrow never ends. Grief is not love persevering, it is a flower plucked and put into your favorite plant jar, but it still withers away. Grief is losing sight of people you’re meant to keep close, wondering if you’ll ever be able to love them again. It is the guilt that comes with a heart not ready to heal just yet.
Grief is not love persevering, because grief is hidden everywhere. In a wildfire you forgot to put out. In its ashes that choke your chest as you breathe into them. It is oxygen not properly reaching your lungs while you wonder if things would ever be the same again. It is holding a pen and paper, hoping for once, the words would come as easy for love as they do for grief. It is not that simple. Grief is constant. Like the sound of your thumping heart beating as loud as the echoes of rumbling thunders, even though the dark cloud is long gone. It is wishing for the war to come back because the war was the only thing that ever gave you meaning. Grief is wanting to die but not actually because what good is dead anyways. It is the dried blood on your callused fingers, the meal you could not stomach, the damp hair spread like wines on your shoulders. In your prayers finally being answered and in the peace you find in so many things. Grief is the blurred memories stopping you from labeling your childhood as good or bad. It is linking the dots of then and now, and thinking what part of it all was a lie.
Grief and love are not black and white, they are not two ends. Maybe two parallels that never connect. Grief is not love preserving, but everything that happens in between and whatever comes after. A lot what happens in between when grief first knocks and when love waves its last goodbye. If anything, grief is hope and not being able to look at your crystal the same way ever again.
Written by:
Sameet Fatima.
