The ocean of grief

Grief is like an ocean, sometimes calm and quiet. Thoughts and memories can enter my mind without too much commotion.

I can have perspective and see the beach and the other beach-goers and yet realize that I am still in the waist high water . I can easily wade back to the shore or swim out further into that endless ocean.
Sometimes the waves get bigger. And the tides take me places I don’t want to go. I can go out so far that the beach seems miles and miles away and the other people on the beach don’t even appear to be people any longer. If I were to scream, no one would hear me.

And without notice a violent storm can appear. I panic and don’t know what to do. The tidal waves take me too far out. I can’t even see the beach any more.
No one knows you’re in the middle of the ocean and need help. They would help me if they knew where I was but there’s really no way to tell them.
Then just as suddenly as the storm arose, I am back in the middle of the calm and able to swim ashore and no one knows I was even in trouble for a while.

Grief is like that. Right now I’m back on the beach but who knows when I’ll decide to wade back out there again.
But the one thing I do know that will always be a constant is I sure do miss my dad.  Six months seems like a lifetime to me.