The Lonely Dance by Janet Elliott Brown

Slowly, the fog swirls around me. It is the fog born of sudden loss. The shock comes even in the knowing of death. The soul is moving gently as it begins the lonely dance of acceptance. That melancholy song that plays just for me.

I am reaching for the rope that will pull me up, out of the fog. I have  moments of surrender when forgetfulness lingers briefly.
To forget, is only to remember again, and again, and again.

When I remember, there is a quick and immediate swelling of sorrow. The sorrow expands inside me until I worry that it will burst wide open and all of me will be poured out. Loss has pulled me under, down into the darkness of my soul.

Hope struggles to breathe life into me, and soon the fog of loss dissipates. Slowly, gently it lifts, and I find myself rising to the surface. And I am back, standing in the light of day.