Oceanic breathing

I often describe grief as an ocean. There are many reasons I find this a very fitting description. At first, I was in the middle of a hurricane and couldn’t see the end. I was constantly tossed about floating on driftwood and feeling like I was drowning. The days were rough as I struggled to focus on a simple task. I put on my mask in front of others and broke down in the bathroom if I couldn’t make it until I left work for the day. I lived on autopilot and some days didn’t remember how I went from one place to the next. The nights were devastating as I was alone and my dreams haunted me as I relived his passing every single night. I often woke scream for him not to leave me and sobbing in despair as I realized again he was gone. Eventually though, the major storm passed and I emerged from the darkness.