Dear Grief, my oldest friend,
I’ve known you quite a while.
I met you when I was still just a child.
In a “hood,” I didn’t grow up in, in a life of playing pretend.

Dear Grief, I grieved my childhood.
Dear Grief, I grieved my purity.
Dear Grief, I grieve my dad, my family, my dog, and my kitty. 
Dear Grief, I ache and carry your love with me.

For it is you that has taught me love. 
To love truth for truth’s sake makes sense. But to learn to love you took ages. 
To love and to hold will always be better than to have not at all. Of course, I love you, Grief. 

You hurt me, but it’s a hurt that heals me. You hurt me, but it’s a love that never leaves me. You hurt me, but it’s okay because I love you. 

In your absence, I can smile.
In your presence, I remember. 
I remember my dad, who was the best father. 
I remember my mother, who wasn’t always bad. 
I remember my dog who got me through 13 years, who I was with until the end. 
I remember my kitty and how she was so pretty. 
I remember my mission, to help people heal and smile. 

Of course, I love you, Grief! 
I love you because even though I grieve and have grieved, I’m still here, able to share their stories and keep their memories.
And yeah, I grieve my childhood. 
The one I didn’t have.
The purity taken from me and the pains it may always bring me. 

But I still love you, Grief. I love you because of their memory. I love you because of what you’ve taught me. I love you, Grief. Thank you for riding with me.