Turn to stone

It would be so much easier if I could just pretend, forget, ignore the grief. If I could just go on a vacation, a lifetime-long vacation, where everything is sunshiny and peaceful and beautiful. It would be so much easier if I just stopped putting in the work of mourning, if I gave up on therapy and remembering and honoring my mom.

Most days I talk myself out of the “live in an idyllic, imaginary world” scenario. I remind myself that it’s impossible. I remind myself that if I stopped putting the work in now it would just come to back to bite me later. I remind myself that if I were to give up I would be separating myself from her, and that separation is what causes the grief.

But some days all my sensible, rational arguments for doing the work aren’t strong enough. They aren’t convincing enough – they don’t speak to the ache in my chest that I just can’t shake. On those days I resort to metaphor:

If I gave up, I would turn to stone.

And I don’t want to turn to stone.

“Let’s take a better look

beyond a story book.

And learn our souls are all we own

before we turn to stone.”