Another @!$!!#! Layer

It's astounding how many different elements there are to working through grief. The closer the person was in your life who died, the more there is to it. Same with other complicating factors, that just add more dimensions and aspects. At first, it seems like the layers come through rather quickly. New things hit often enough that it feels like it's an ongoing process. It gets hard to trust that things are really what they are, because new things have come up, and keep coming up. There's no way to know if or when the next will appear, but it never seems to take long. Hell, sometimes the next comes along before we're even feeling done with the previous one. And then a plate that already felt full feels overloaded. And if it was feeling overloaded, well, we wonder if this'll be the one to make it crack.

And yet, after awhile, enough's been worked through that it seems like it might be the end. The levels don't unfold as quickly anymore. We get some time to work through things. We get periods where there's not stuff coming up, that starts feeling like we've made some progress. We get to enjoy feeling a bit more settled with who we are, with who we've been becoming. We get to have a sense that we're actually handling things OK. There's a sense of confidence and comfort that comes with that. It starts feeling like life might be something we're going to be able to deal with again after all.

And then another fucking layer unfolds on us, and we find ourselves yanked into another go 'round on the rollercoaster.

I'd said before I hope to get to the point that most of what comes to mind when I think of her is the good memories, the good times we shared. Sure, it'd be unrealistic to expect the bad memories would be completely gone. I don't know of any way to erase all of those without erasing EVERYTHING. Besides, if nothing else, the memories of the bad times are good indicators of what isn't worth accepting again. What isn't worth it, no matter how many other things might be good....or might seem to be good. But those can be safely tucked away 'til they're needed, and most of what comes up is the good memories. That was the hope, anyway.

The one thing I hadn't really counted on is that having the good memories come back up could hurt so much. They're such a strong reminder of where there had been good elements and good times. And those are the things I really miss. Not having thought of them much, I hadn't missed them, not as specifically. But when they suddenly come to mind, bursting through like the rays of the sun shoving through the storm clouds that have blanketed the sky....all too often they hurt, too. The warmth of the sun is welcome after the frigid gale and rain, but when your skin's already raw and burned, it hurts, too. And I'd never considered how much work there might be that'd go into reclaiming those good memories, those good elements.

Another fucking layer to unravel. At this point, I'm afraid to wonder if this is the last. I'm afraid to assume it is...because I might be proven wrong...again.