[Trigger warnings: loss, grief; cancer.]

How can grief keep turning around and hit us like a truck over and over again? 

I thought I’d be able to sleep it off last night or run it off this morning. But no, it’s still here, tearing at my heart and causing tears to flow profusely, sobbing even. 

I am grateful for the tears and sobs, at least, as they allow for some relief or release. 

But it still hurts. Immensely. Deeply.

Why now? Why again? 

Is it because summer is here now — the smell of it, the look of it, the feel of it in the temperature, in the light, in the perfumes, in the flowers? All the signs of early summer in Colorado with all the reminders and associated memories of what this time of year was like for me last year, of whom I was spending it with. And the reminder that the next two months might just continue to feel like this, or be an even harder struggle with memories and grief. 

When the anniversary of my father’s last hospitalization & death come around in five weeks, my European (gender)queer ex-lover won’t be here to hold me as they did last year. And they won’t be here this Pride month. And they’re not here today, in this moment when all I would want would be to snuggle up in their arms. 

One of my oldest & dearest friends in Europe, who is like a sister to me and is the same nationality as my European (gender)queer ex-lover, has been diagnosed with breast cancer. I found out yesterday. I wish I could be there with her and hold her. But I also wish my European (gender)queer ex-lover could hold me. 

Is this another of the reasons this wave of grief is hitting me so hard? 

All I wish for now is something I cannot have, and that feels heart-wrenching.