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  • Writer's pictureMary Jensen

My Heart is a Firestorm Fueled by Grief



Flames with the title "My Heart is a Firestorm Fueled by Grief"

The palms of my hands hurt. Yet the scorching pain in my heart is relentless. I feel as if I am losing my mind. The hardest times for me are when I am alone. I become distracted, lost in memories. I try to focus on my family, my work, and household chores but it has become an internal battle.

This feeling inside has been building and growing and gaining strength inside me for a while now, it has energy and heat and depth. It spreads to every part of my body. Every day I fight this fire to keep it contained and under control. If I don't, I fear I will be consumed by this grief-filled firestorm. There are days when I get sad, that is expected. I miss Erik more than I can articulate. His death is incredibly hard for me to accept. I think because I simply don't want to accept it. I don't want to accept that Erik died, even though I know that I must. Today was different. Something fueled that fire within me. Within moments, I lost all control. I think it was the music playing on the radio in the car as I was driving down the road. It's the music that gets me, even the happy songs can stir my grief. As the music drifted through the air my hands gripped the steering wheel more tightly, my eyes narrowed on the road as they filled with tears. I started to sob as if I had just heard the news of his accident for the first time. I don't know what came over me but I began to scream. A gut-wrenching primal sound that came from that deep dark place inside my body. My hands were pounding the steering wheel. I shouted to Erik "I just want you to come home!" At some point, I pulled off the road and parked the car on the shoulder. Telling myself to breathe, I tried to calm myself down. I'm not sure how long I sat there, five minutes, ten? Eventually, this grief-filled firestorm burned itself out and I was able to breathe again. Slowly I regained control of my emotions. I changed the radio station, opting for a news channel instead of music. Fumbling for a clean tissue in my purse and instantly irritated that all I had was a used crumpled up one. I wiped away the black streaks running down my face. Taking a deep breath I put the car in gear. As I pulled off the shoulder onto to the dark pavement, I realize my hands hurt from the brutal attack on my steering wheel. I focus on the news channel and the long road ahead of me.

For now, that firestorm is contained...until the next time.

MMJ

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