Quote One: "No one told me grief felt so much like fear."

As I stated in my last post, I will be blogging about my first time reading "A Grief Observed" by C.S. Lewis. So far, the book has been compelling and down-right honest. I will be a taking a quote per blog post to reflect and try to make sense of Lewis's words. Well, here we go. First quote:

"No one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing." (Lewis pg. 1)

This was the first line in the book; the first couple sentences. And yet, while I was reading this for the first time, not even flipping the first page yet, I already felt a connection with Lewis. Because although I'd hate to admit it, I have felt the exact same way. Lewis and I share something; we share the inevitable reality of grief.

This quote immediately took me back to my initial stages, the week I found out that Jake died. I couldn't eat, could not sleep, and yes, the sensations felt exactly like fear. I had an adrenaline rush that I didn't know what to do with and thought I was going mad.

I was constantly searching, and looking over my shoulder for something, even though at the time I hadn't the slightest idea what. Fear consumed my life: from not wanting to talk to old friends to spending the entire rest of the summer locked in my room.

Fear only has power of we let it. And boy, does it clamp its latches on me. Truth is, I am afraid. Even to this day, over three years after my beloved Jake left, I'm still scared shitless.

I am scared for putting myself out there, learning to depend on other people and learning to let other people in. Before Jake, I had always been more on the introverted side regarding my feelings. But after he left, it kicked everything into high gear. For me, it is so incredibly hard to trust people.

It's scary.

It's terrifying.

And I know exactly why.

I trusted Jake with everything. From sharing my hopes, dreams and aspirations to letting him know how I felt about him. He earned my trust-- and deserved it. When he died, all of the mutual foundations of trust and confidentiality were shattered. I no longer had him to confide in and respond to my cry of help, and the reality of grief became as real as ever.

What scares me is not that something like this will happen again. I know the odds of having another loved one die so young is very slim. What I am afraid of, though, is that I might by chance put my heart into someone's hands again it be carelessly shattered. I honestly don't know if I could go through that again.

I see what grief is/was doing to me. It paralyzes the victim in a timeless trans that one cannot escape. It paralyzes the victim with fear.

When a loved one passes away, the feeling is a horrific one like no other. When you receive the news, and it brings it to your knees, that's when you know what true love means.

I hate it when people say, "Stop being selfish for wanting (a loved one) back, they are happier now and are in a better place."

SO WHAT?

Jake died at fifteen years old, and I'm not being selfish. I feel agony and pain for not only me, but for him as well. He never got to graduate from high school, get his driver's license or go to college. He never got to go to prom or receive his acceptance letters for the universities he applied for. He will never get married, have a family of his own or get his first real job.

Jake is stuck in time, just like me. And that scares me.