Grief is like Molasses

Molasses.

It's thick. Stirring it takes effort.

It's dark. Not quite black, but almost.

It's slow. Pouring it takes time.

It's sticky. 

It's heavy.

Its smell is familiar and lingers.

Thick. Dark. Slow. Sticky. Heavy. Familiar. Lingering.

These are all words that I would also use to describe my grief.

Interestingly enough, molasses is also most frequently used around the holidays - when my grief is also at its peak.

The past three years have been filled with what feels like an avalanche of loss. Tragic, unexpected, heartbreaking loss. Car accidents. Drug overdoses. Diseases. All takers of people I love.

My body tends to respond physically to the emotions I feel. When I'm sad, my body hurts. I'm tired. Getting up out of bed feels like climbing a mountain. It takes so much more effort to complete simple tasks. Even taking deep breaths feels difficult.

The atmosphere around me feels thick.

I feel dark. Like my insides are pitch-black. Grief makes me want to hide in a dim room by myself.

Life feels slow. My brain doesn't process as quickly or sharply as normal. I'm not as productive. It takes so long for me to get motivated to do things.

It's like pouring molasses from the jar - it takes forever. It drips slowly. That's how I see myself functioning in relation to others around me when I'm grieving and I often get impatient with myself because of it.

I feel sticky and heavy. It's as if everything I touch becomes "sticky" too - like I am dragging people into my grief with me. When I'm grieving, I feel heavy - sometimes literally heavier because of weight gain, and figuratively heavier because of the weight of the burdens I am carrying.

Grief feels familiar. Just like the smell of gingerbread is familiar and brings back memories each time the aroma enters my nose, new losses bring a familiarity and bring to surface memories of the grief I felt before.

Grief lingers. I think about the way the house smells after baking with molasses. It infiltrates every room; the smell stays around for a while, slowly fading. It is the same with the ache within me. It is strong, it infiltrates crevices of my body and mind, and it lingers for a while before slowly fading.

Grief is like molasses. It's thick, dark, slow, sticky, familiar, and it lingers.

The most beautiful thing about grief being like molasses, is that just like molasses is used to make sweet, tasty, wonderful things, grief is used by God to make us sweet, strong, and wonderful beings.

Grief is used as an incredible ingredient of growth as long as we surrender it to the Lord. He is so faithful to work all things, even the most painful things, together for our good and His glory.

When I'm covered in grief, feeling like I'm wearing a coat made of molasses, experiencing pain in the deepest parts of my heart, my Father whispers to me, "My child, I have not abandoned you. There is wonderful joy ahead." In His presence, I'm invited to take off my coat and rest.