Grief is love with nowhere to go – How many times must someone say it? How many times? And how many times, seemingly, must it be repeated again to erase the absurdity of what has just been said? It is often said love is persecution; at the same time, it is referred to as immense happiness, but what is meant by the ‘Grief is love with nowhere to go”? It is a situation when love has no place to go.
‘’Grief is love with nowhere to go’’ – Jamie Anderson.
Let me begin. The reason I have come. The reason I have come back. Not for forgiveness, not for understanding, but something more prosaic. Something much less solipsistic. Less metaphysical. Less apocalyptic. Less pedestrian. Less portentous. The reason I have come back is to say this: grief is love with nowhere to go.
In life, in love often situation comes when you can’t live it, you can’t leave it, you can’t forget it, you can’t go somewhere, you’re just stuck in it, you just have nowhere to go.
Grief is like love, like sleep, like death, like happiness. Grief is like everything you’ve ever had or wanted, which you lost or never had or wanted.
Grief is the common root of all of the impossible pain that love exposes us to. Grief is love without the possibility of hope.
Grief grows in the soil of what could have been but was not—grief blooms in the wreckage of desire. Grief puts out its wildest color in the grayness of the unlived future.
Grief is what happens when we don’t get what we want, but also what happens when we do get what we want because grief is not only the absence of love, but it’s also the presence of love, the persistent longing for the return of something that no longer exists.
What is grief if not love prevailing?
What is grief if not love prevailing? Is it the price of love, more love than we imagined we could bear? Is it the contract of love, more love than we imagined we could give? Grief is what happens when love has nowhere to go.
It is needless to say that there are no rules to grief. We could only succumb to it, surrender to it, permit our hearts and minds to split open up for doing it. It is really an ebb and flows, a dance of discomfort and love, an emerging together simply to once more crumble. It is a sense of conquering, only to alert every single morning within the arms of grief again.
Grief is a change of who we once were actually to who we currently grow to be. It is really a modification of ourselves, an adaptation to our own souls. We don’t work through our grief and go back to who we once have been. There will never be a comeback to the people we once were. We are broken by grief shattered.
We can never look similar, mend a similar. We lose fragments of ourselves, leave behind the items that reduce too deeply; the pieces we long to forget should forget about. No matter what we currently become, we come up with through the brokenness we scrounge from what small we now have remaining.
Grief breaks us at the same time, changes us a lot, and stops letting us another place to go. We love the most who hurt the most. It feels like we are kept in the grave. It feels like we can’t ignore the emotions that we feel for the person who hurt us and broke into thousand pieces. It’s so true that grief is just loved with no place to go.