Grief is a Neighborhood

"Are you gettin' something out of this all encompassing trip?

You can spend your time alone redigesting past regrets oh...

Or you can come to terms and realize

You're the only one who can forgive yourself oh yeah..."

Present Tense, Pearl Jam

Dear Emma,

The title says it all. You grief is a rough place. There’s not much real estate that is pleasant on the Shady Lane of grief. The roads are narrow and tough to navigate. It’s populated with a number of houses, most of which you’d best not find yourself occupying on any give day.

There is the House of Guilt. This is a treacherous place. It’s a kin to a distorted hall of mirrors or the crooked-man’s house. Nothing looks right and every imagine, whether of yourself or others, is twisted and distorted. The usually clean and concise lines of a normal house dive down into each other perverting your sense of space and structure. The floor is slanted and requires you to plant each footstep with all your strength, steady yourself, and push with all your might to just get across the room. This house is designed to trick you and keep you. Once inside, few ever leave.

The House of Pain and Anxiety stands near by. This is a simple house. Inside the light is blinding and feel like your staring into a white, hot sun. It’s a hot, humid place that stifles every breath. You lungs fill with heat and the air in them leach only the smallest bit of oxygenated nourishment. Every edge is jagged and sharp. Surfaces are fiery and imbued with a sandpaper texture. It’s not meant for long stays, but you’ll find yourself there in a flash without the slightest understanding of how you got there like some drunken stupor led you to stumble inside.

The House of Sorrow lacks the color of the world. It seems like a perfectly fine and peaceful place, but under the surface everything has died. The food appear plump and ripe ready to be devoured but turns to ash in your mouth. The air, though clear and crisp, turns acrid in your lungs and seers every alveoli. Your mind while in this house is submerged into a deep, thick black river that washes over your soul and flushes away the moments as you make them, robbing you of any of the joy a new day of life brings. This is a place of think, drugged sleep at the bottom of a bottle. The water rises and the air slowly drains from the world and you succumbed to the heavy weight of your eye lids fastening shut like the gates of some dark, dank castle buried deep in the wilderness.

The House of Fear jaggedly protrudes from the landscape. It’s a dark place. Whispers envelope you as you sit under the veil of its oppressive weight. Every sound is one of terror. Every sense anticipating the next strike. Every bit of news delivered through its distortion is mired in death, loss, and destruction. You sit constantly anticipating the hot blade of a knife piercing your heart. It’s a place that will consume you and even after you escape it will stalk you through the neighborhood craving to bring you back and feast on any peace you find.

Far, far, far, far down at the end of the lane buried deep in a wooded dell stands a house obscured from any direct view that casts a grotesque and sickly light. This is the house you never leave.

The House of Solace stands near the House of Sorrow. It’s a restful place that brings a deep sigh from your breast. Here you lay your head down. Tears still stream down your face, but they are tears that help bleed the venom of guilt and pain from your soul. This is a place of pondering. This is a place of planning. There are tools here where you can repair what is broken. Things are never perfect again, but they are fixed and molded in a new way that brings new utility. Here you can heal, rest, and rebuild. This is a transitional abode with much impermanence baked into its very fibers.

The House of Peace stands on a lush green piece of acreage. It’s the only sprawling estate in this little enclave of homes. It’s a place of beauty and maturity. The water tastes sweet, the food is abundant, and the air gently dances along your skin as you find the deepest, restful sleep. Your mind is focused and nimble. Worries wash away and time slows. Each thought and act can be perfectly planned and executed. It’s a space of pure comfort and rest. It’s difficult to attain and can only be rented, but as you stay longer, you find it easier to come back. It welcomes you, it gives you life, and it moves you to thrive and breathe new life into others.

We must work everyday for the house we live in here. The strength you’ve given me helps me find my way the House of Peace. I’m still working on longer and longer stays, but I know I’m on the path to get there. I know where my true home stands.

Love,

Dad