My mood is heavy, my heart is heavy.
Like the clouds outside my window weighted with rain waiting to fall. No rumbles of thunder just gray, water filled fluff overhead. Bearing down, pushing so hard that it threatens to squeeze every breath from my chest.
I wish there was some place to go that took the heaviness away. Just for a while. Instead, I drag it with me filled with the weight of loss.
Even letting tears escape down my cheeks doesn't release the burden that my heart keeps firmly in it's grasp.
I'm ready for sunshine to peek through and remind me that this heaviness won't last forever. Or perhaps it will, but a gentle reminder that there will be moments that don't feel like I'm being swallowed by quicksand. Even tiny, fleeting moments. Just some chance to catch my breath.
Webster's definition of strong is "having or marked by great physical power".
My definition is "waking up everyday in grief and surviving".