Grief is a peculiar thing. The exact definition is ‘the anguish experienced after a significant loss, usually the death of a beloved person.’ That’s wrong though. Grief is crushing. It never leaves you, even after years. It sneaks up on you. You can never tell when it will break your heart and leave you breathless. 

My mind was numb. There was no noise, no taste, no smells. It was just me, sitting in the dark abyss that was my misery. It was happening again. That thing where I block the world out so I can’t feel anything. 

I’m thankful, for a while. But then I remember what it will be like when I get back to the surface. The pitiful stares, the red eyes. Anything but how it feels when I come across something of my mom's. 

I was struggling to breathe, I knew that. I also knew that somewhere, my best friend was trying to comfort me. It was no use. They should know that by now. 

I don’t know what brought this episode on. It could have been being in my mom's room with all of her stuff, it could have been that stuffed bear that she gave me when I sprained my ankle when I was five. Or it could have been the picture of my mom and dad when she was in college. 

Pain struck. It suffocated me, strangling my heart until I couldn’t breathe. It consumed me. Every fiber of my being. I gasped, drawing in a breath. I sighed and a memory of a playground on a Sunday morning.

All of my breath left me again.