Grief is a wave.
At times, grief is seen in the distance, an inescapable force. There’s nothing that can stop its inevitable advance.
Other times the wave hits from behind, unanticipated, dumbfounding, a shock.
It crests high, freezes time before breaking, inundating like a tsunami, sending the world tumbling in its turbulent upheaval.
The wave stretches into the future, rising and falling, frothing and churning, cresting and breaking again over unseen rocks beneath the surface.
Leaving its mark like raw sand.