This Grief

I thought I knew "Grief," having spent some time with her in past years. But this is not the Grief I remember.

This Grief seems crueler, stronger, even vindictive. She pops up most unexpectedly--in a book, during a song, while I'm sorting laundry or running errands. She greets my silent tears with disdain.

This Grief seems larger than I remember her. Sometimes she looms so large she blocks out the sun and her shadow touches everything. And every thing that her shadow touches, it spoils. I fear I will never be able to hear that song, visit that place or smell the fragrance of those flowers again without her presence.

Wearily, I go through the motions of life. In the distance, there is another shadow-a shadow in the shape of a cross. And I know that all I can do is cling to the base of that cross. Under the cross, Grief cannot touch me because here is Grace---Grace that can erase and obliterate all the remorse and regrets and accusations that Grief can throw at me.