A Senseless Grief That is Not My Own

 I was grieving for children I did not know. For their parents. For their grandmas and grandpas, brothers and sisters, for everyone who loved them. 

I sat at the edge of my bed and let the tears fall. I had been in a numb, disassociated state for a few weeks now, and the events that transpired this week had really wiped out any sense of wanting to feel. 

I did not want to feel anything. I did not want to process, or accept, or face the reality. And yet at the same time, I could not stop doom scrolling, trying to learn as much as possible as to what happened. 

"It's because your brain wants to understand" my therapist said. "Your brain wants to make sense of something that has no sense at all. No logic." 

and that's where I had been too, senseless, until tonight, when i finally shed tears and imposed to God, to the universe, to somebody to please tell me that the kids were somewhere, that they were ok. 

If I could only know what, if anything, is beyond the veil, I could have peace in my heart. I could quell this grief that consumes me. I could tame the waves of anguish by grasping onto some kind of comfort that maybe, just maybe, these souls were now in another place. 

I know that we must live in the now. That it is really all that we have. So when that now gets snatched away from you so cruelly, evil-y, in such a horrifying manner, what, we just accept it? That's life? 

How do I know...how can I know that there is another space for our souls to go to. One that lets us look back and process the life that we can no longer live. 

How can I know, that when I tell my children that our love will live forever, that it is infinity, how can I know that is true? And what does that mean? How would that be sustainable? 

And if its not, then what? 

Let me do the 5,4,3,2,1 grounding exercise: 

I see 5 things: I see the paintings my husband made during his downward quarantine spiral. I see the family photo that my eldest daughter drew of the family. I see the engraved water bottle I brought Jeremie from Mexico, because he is always complaining about plastic. I see the picture of me and my grandpa at my quince - where is he now? I see my collection of nail polishes, one of the little things in life that make me happy. 

This is life. Life is what is here, now. Life is my precious children whom I cannot be with right now because I am so caught up in this existential grief and despair. and yet, the most beautiful things I can have, my children are sitting in the next room...

This is life. you believe, don't you? When you were 2 years old, and your Tio Rodrigo came back to see you, how can you make that up? You saw the angel in the sky, why would you make that up? You had the dream where you felt the peace of death - the peace that came from gratitude of having gotten to live. And while you didn't get to know more about what happens after...something seemed to be happening, yeah? 

Regardless, focus on what is happening now. Here, on this plane of existence. Love. Forgive. Help. And believe, seek, feel, fight. life is worth fighting for.