The company of a stranger
A prose I wrote about deep grief and loss, not being understood by close relations yet being met with understanding by an therapist with Heart…
The company of a stranger. By Alison Hurst
I have been alone here, with my articles of desperate loss littering my room,
The soot covered windows evidencing my silent tears, it is how these grey hairs appeared.
I have walked about these ‘Afterdays’ with the mask of the ‘Before me’ firmly in place, yet waving a flag of “please help me” for anyone willing to perceive.
I performed the colloquial grieved mother until my allotted time was up, then you all looked at me oddly, I suddenly felt I should shut up. The anguish of her leaving now a hieroglyph of bereavement that no-one cares to interpret, leaving me stock still standing in confused suffering.
Jumbled up feelings, searching for meaning and hopeless steps to find a willing heart of comfort to meet me in my grieving, all culminating in scraped knees and distrustful greetings.
Yes, I was left alone as the ricocheting trauma smashed the ceiling. All loved ones scrambling into corners far from my ground zero, as blame and shame fell upon my cold mornings.
Endings like these is solitude’s quest without a choice to reject. And no matter how I tried to confess the challenges of losing her and what it has meant, you all smile politely then readdress with a more acceptable topic, for this is not appropriate for the dinner guest.
I stand stock still in confused emptiness, mouthing silently “please help me, I didn’t mean to upset”.
Only a paid hand has finally heard me, yet it is not the dollar that seems to entice this union of empathy, for a thousand has already been spent.
Maybe it is just a timely saviour that arrived at the last request to rescue a good woman’s heart from a tombstone headrest.
This openhearted ear that wishes to hear me clearly, invites my own saddened story to weep tears upon the listener’s safety, offering each watery orb knowledge of its right to fall
And finally, this desert land of loneliness can be flowered in a stranger’s company.