Grief cycle, each event and circumstance does have and end point

          I have been blogging a lot lately about grief (in a non-direct way). I haven’t had someone in my life die recently; however, I have suffered loss.  Loss is loss and every time you truly “lose” there is a grief cycle to go through.  I hate it, but having been through the cycle multiple times I know that there is light at the end of the tunnel and things do get better.  It all royally sucks, but it does get better.  So, I guess the question you are asking is ‘Why am I in the grief cycle?’  My vision tanked again.  You know that cute grid picture on the right of my blog?  Well last Thursday I could see some greying around the middle and lines going wavy more than usual.  Right now the center of the grid is simply gone. Always before when my eyes do this my vision does come back a certain extent.  It comes back, not because the condition has healed itself but because my brain has relocated a better spot on my retina to bring images into focus.   I feel like I have done all this work to adapt and rehabilitate and then it is like being placed back at square one and asked to start over again.  I described this process as being like getting pulled out to sea on a rip tide, and then you use all your strength, training and knowledge to get back to shore.  Just as you are about to lay a hand on the beach another rip tide hauls you back out to sea and you start over.  I am exhausted.  I was told I not only have suffered a primary loss (my vision), but secondary losses (all my fine tune vision requiring hobbies, my degree and training being rendered useless, and everything else my lack of vision has stolen.).  I think the hardest part of the grief cycle is how people respond to it.  When you are the person on the outside looking into a person and their grief is rather frightening.  It makes you contemplate those things in life no one wants to ever think about.  However, as the outsider you don’t have to do any of the work, surfer any of the effects, deal with any of the obstacles.  You are simply an observer.  There are no words to say, nothing that can be done accept to just stand by and silently support the hurting simply by your presence.  These are the times you learn the depth of friendships.  Friends, true friends, silently climb into the trench with you and choose to just be with you in the midst of the loss. They don’t try to ‘fix it’ or tell you how you should deal with it, they just buoy you up with their presence, compassion, and love.