Good Grief

Grief is the "black sheep of the family." He shows up at my door, uninvited and drunk, at the most inconvenient times, usually in the middle of the night. Politely, I try to convince him to leave, but next thing I know he's passing by me and plopping himself down on my couch. 

He smells. No, he stinks! The smell of his burps makes me nauseous. By golly! I've just given the living-room a good cleaning and there he is, sweaty, drunk, filthy, on my couch. Ughh. Not him again! He used to live with me twenty-four-seven a few years ago, but eventually I kicked him to the curb. He still shows up now and then, though. He makes me wonder why I have to have a family member like that, why my family can't just be normal. 

As I come to terms with the fact that I'm not going to get rid of him tonight, I try to get in touch with compassionate side. I mean, it must be hard to be Grief... Unwanted, unloved. I nurture him a bit. Talk to him. Where have you been? How are things going? And such. I cook him some food. As he sobers up, he shares a bit of wisdom from his journey. I prepare the guest room for him and he goes to bed. When I check on him in the morning, he's gone.