Here With Me – Grief Release (Micro Fiction)

Posted on by Prior...

Hello again, today’s post is to join in with What Pegman Saw.

What Pegman Saw is a weekly flash fiction challenge. Using the location provided, the aim is to write a piece of flash fiction of no more than 150 words and today the prompt is  Gurara Waterfalls, Nigeria.

 

 

Here With Me (fiction word count: 150)

 

Went down to the river

to release grief.

 

Wanted to feel

rushing waters

and let that power lead to rapid repair of my grieving soul.

 

People must feel. Must grieve or we’ll be stuck. But unbridled grief is dangerous.

 

Grieving processes – at times – must be paused; detached periods allow one to find flow in routine, regain strength, and slowly heal.

 

So at the river I forced release. For my health.

 

It was serendipitous that the spring flood was thundering through that day. 

Fast-moving, murky water felt like the current of emotions I had from loss.

Grief can suck one under, toss ‘em roughly, and spit ‘em back out almost dead.

 

Slowly, my sadness felt contained.

After drying my eyes on my shirt, a faint smile formed.

 

“You

              are always

                                  here

                                           with me.”

 

Memories allow your essence to linger.

Always. 

 

Leaving the river, a wave of calm went with me.

 

__

This post was inspired by a few things, including this song: Here With Me – by Susie Suh HERE

__

 

and this next comic is for Linda:

 

.

.

.

.

.

 

44 thoughts on “Here With Me – Grief Release (Micro Fiction)”

  3. “Fast-moving, murky water felt like the current of emotions I had from loss. Grief can suck one under, toss ‘em roughly, and spit ‘em back out almost dead” – these lines will stay with me for a while. Thanks.

    Liked by 3 people

  8. Wow, Y. That was beautiful—and sad. Your words and that picture captured the up and down feelings of grief wonderfully. And I thank you for that hilarious comic! I’m still laughing and that’s a good thing! Love and hugs to you on this magnificent Easter Sunday. 😘☺️

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Well sooooo glad u loved the stroke comic! You have shared so many with me I finally found one for u! And whew – I smile now just thinking of it!

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks so much and sadly I do know a little bit of this from experience –
      But as your blog title reminds – thankfully we rise up from those ashes!

      Liked by 1 person

  11. This is a lovely interpretation of the grieving process. It does ebb and flow and of course one must face it full-on to move forward. I feel some get stuck in it so it would be lovely if all it took was a walk to the water’s edge and have it wash away…

    Liked by 2 people

    1. That “would” be lovely – very…..
      And from what I have seen – sometimes a person’s “unresolved issues” get magnified if they experience deep grief – maybe it is because they already lack poor coping skills (like say someone has anger issues and never learned ways to manage and combat that suitcase emotion – right- well when they grieve they might just get more into the throws of their anger coping)

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I do hear you.
        I guess I am such a realist that I can see past my grief and move forward. I’ve had more than my share, quite frankly. Yet, I am considered very optimistic and jovial…

        Liked by 2 people

        1. Yeah -‘dale – I know this about u as well! And have admired your healing and ability to move on after your loss!
          Maybe it is all that writing and blogging that has kept you all fresh and resilient – ya – kidding – it does seem like you just have s gift for – um – maybe coping?

          Like

        2. I actually do believe blogging helped a huge amount. I received so much love from all around the world, I was blown away.
          And yeah. I’m a realist and k ow I’m not the first nor will be the last. Life is full of challenges. How we face them is up to us.
          I’m just very lucky to be so well surrounded too

          Liked by 1 person

  12. Grieving is a process, and as your analogy suggests, not a straightforward one. Some days – weeks – can be good, then you see, hear, smell something and it hits you for six. Time is the only healer. Nicely done Prior

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thanks so much and sounds like you know this topic well – esp that part about the hits your for six.
      Oh – and a while back I heard an interesting piece about how “time does not necessarily heal”
      Like sure time passing can sometimes allow acceptance and familiarity – but time by itself does not heal – as someone could stay stuck in the throws for decades – cope maladaptively or just stay stuck. Or never process and find a way to move on with health – Ya know what I mean?
      cs Lewis once said loss is not something we get over – rather – we adjust and adapt to a new situation – like a person who lost a limb needs to learn how to live without it and make needed adjustments to get that new normal and function healthfully

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Yes, you’re right – some people don’t adjust, although most cope eventually. And even decades later that loss can still return.
        That CS Lewis quote does sound right – adapting to the world with a new hole punched in it, the one created when your loved one left you. I remember the panic I felt when my Dad died – how could I be me when someone I’d known all my life wasn’t there anymore? How could the world still be the world? And yet I am still me, if a wiser, more bruised version. And the world turns without him as it will turn without each one of us. I find some comfort in that, actually. Thank you for your post and thoughts

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Thank you for coming back to follow up !!
          And loved this espcislly:

          “And the world turns without him as it will turn without each one of us”

          Liked by 1 person

  13. A lovely piece which captures so many of the elements of grief and memory. I particularly liked
    “After drying my eyes on my shirt, a faint smile formed.

    “You
    are always
    here
    with me.”

    Memories allow your essence to linger.”
    It feels as though a faint odour, or essence, of the person lost, still clung to the shirt, triggering a feeling of continuing closeness.
    Nice writing, Yvette.

    Liked by 2 people

    2. Oh and I almost had “blew a bunch of sinus cleaning snot on my shirt….” but it did not seem to fit as well
      -‘kidding

      Like

Comments are closed.