The geography of my inner self

Grief changes your core in more ways than you know. As I take stock after a year and a month since mom’s passing on, I realise I have changed irretrievably. And while the change has been gradual, I find myself altered radically. Some parts of me have been chiselled out, others have developed sharp edges and others have burrowed deep down.

They say that you feel the grief, come face to face with it, only after you are in a comfortable space, when you can afford to face it.

I have also been playing hide and seek with my grief over the last year. It was a time when calamities came one after the other, and in stenching them I didn’t have the space to ponder on this aspect.

Now, as other things have fallen into place, grief knocks at my door, like a sullen visitor, who wants to come in, take a seat in my hearth and share its tale with me. It’s a tale I must hear, for in that lies the key to moving on.


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