The shards of broken shells crunched under my feet. The cool sting of saltwater nursed the cuts and scrapes on the bottom of my feet. It was a clear day, but my vision was clogged with an overpowering sense of loneliness. It had been six months since my grandfather died, and since then all I could see was the empty space he left behind.
I went on these long walks to try and clear my head, clear my vision, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t wipe away the fog of sadness. I wanted to collapse, I didn’t want to carry this grief with me anymore. This feeling was destroying me from the inside out, it consumed my thoughts and controlled my actions.
When I was young I tried to decorate my room with seashells all by myself. Shell by shell I …show more content…
I collapsed onto the dunes and looked at the sand. They say the cure for everything is saltwater, whether it be in the form of the sea or of tears, yet I had both going for me and I still could barely breathe.
Under the dunes a few feet in front of me I saw the corner of a beach towel, and figuring it belonged to the beach club I was staying at, I dragged it into the ocean to wash it off. Picking it up, I tried to wring it out, but it was too heavy to lift. I looked around for someone to help, but I was completely alone, at least two miles away from the beach club. I knelt down and wrung it out in portions, until I could hoist it into my arms. It then became apparent to me that I had to take it back. I had to carry this dripping wet piece of fabric back with me, even though it was too heavy for me to handle.
My muscles ached, my biceps felt as if they were being stretched, just an inch away from snapping. My back hurt from being pulled down by the towel. My neck was strained from trying to keep my head up. It sat uncomfortably in my arms and the sandy water dripped down my legs. My whole body was telling me to drop this towel where I was and leave it …show more content…
I had to carry the towel two miles back to the beach club. I walked the distance with the weight in my arms. During that walk back I didn’t think of anything but the towel that was dragging me down. It felt like I had walked fifty miles with it, when in reality I hadn’t even walked one. It wasn’t getting any easier to carry. It was in that moment that I realized the pain caused by the empty space my grandfather left behind was never going to fade. It was going to stay with me for the rest of my life.
When I finally reached home, I set down the towel, and my arms ached. The next morning, my whole upper body ached. And the day after that, I was still sore. But when I went to bed the following night, I felt just a little bit stronger.
Carrying this new grief with me is something I have to deal with for the rest of my life, but that doesn’t mean it won’t get easier. I will become accustomed to the weight, and soon the heaviness won’t feel so heavy. Yes, it’ll still be there, but I will always be getting stronger and stronger, strong enough to handle the
I went on these long walks to try and clear my head, clear my vision, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t wipe away the fog of sadness. I wanted to collapse, I didn’t want to carry this grief with me anymore. This feeling was destroying me from the inside out, it consumed my thoughts and controlled my actions.
When I was young I tried to decorate my room with seashells all by myself. Shell by shell I …show more content…
I collapsed onto the dunes and looked at the sand. They say the cure for everything is saltwater, whether it be in the form of the sea or of tears, yet I had both going for me and I still could barely breathe.
Under the dunes a few feet in front of me I saw the corner of a beach towel, and figuring it belonged to the beach club I was staying at, I dragged it into the ocean to wash it off. Picking it up, I tried to wring it out, but it was too heavy to lift. I looked around for someone to help, but I was completely alone, at least two miles away from the beach club. I knelt down and wrung it out in portions, until I could hoist it into my arms. It then became apparent to me that I had to take it back. I had to carry this dripping wet piece of fabric back with me, even though it was too heavy for me to handle.
My muscles ached, my biceps felt as if they were being stretched, just an inch away from snapping. My back hurt from being pulled down by the towel. My neck was strained from trying to keep my head up. It sat uncomfortably in my arms and the sandy water dripped down my legs. My whole body was telling me to drop this towel where I was and leave it …show more content…
I had to carry the towel two miles back to the beach club. I walked the distance with the weight in my arms. During that walk back I didn’t think of anything but the towel that was dragging me down. It felt like I had walked fifty miles with it, when in reality I hadn’t even walked one. It wasn’t getting any easier to carry. It was in that moment that I realized the pain caused by the empty space my grandfather left behind was never going to fade. It was going to stay with me for the rest of my life.
When I finally reached home, I set down the towel, and my arms ached. The next morning, my whole upper body ached. And the day after that, I was still sore. But when I went to bed the following night, I felt just a little bit stronger.
Carrying this new grief with me is something I have to deal with for the rest of my life, but that doesn’t mean it won’t get easier. I will become accustomed to the weight, and soon the heaviness won’t feel so heavy. Yes, it’ll still be there, but I will always be getting stronger and stronger, strong enough to handle the