The Untangling of Grief

It's been a little over a year since grief arrived as the tangled mess that it is. We lost Dad in October of 2024. Looking back, I see I now have an understanding of grief that I never wanted. Yet, the learning is inevitable. 

The Tangled Mess

When you first come face-to-face with grief, it is a big, chaotic ball of emotions. You are entangled in a mess of dark, muted colors–confusion, anger, sadness, and a host of other surprising emotions as well. At times, they are wrapped around you so tightly, you feel like your very life is being squeezed out of you. Other times, they drape around, making you off-balance and causing you to trip every time you try to take a step forward. The tangle leaves you overwhelmed, weighed down, and stuck in the incomprehensible mess. 

Finding a Thread

Eventually, you realize you cannot stay stuck, and so you reach out and begin to pull, hesitatingly at first, on a single thread. What seems impossible can only be made into something manageable by beginning to untangle the mess. You pull and you tug. You re-examine. You analyze. And you pull and tug some more. Gently. Pulling too tightly can make it harder to continue the work. Your focus shifts. No longer are you focused on the giant knot, but instead, you concentrate on the slow, deliberate work of untangling. 

The Slow Work

You eventually hold what you have unraveled in your hands, wondering what to do with this. It is yours. You can’t simply walk off and leave it. You know it is something that will be with you forever. You sit quietly, looking at the piles. You reach out and hold the colors in your hand, noticing how they don’t look quite as dark as when they were in the massive knot. You reach for the tools you notice are by your side. “When did those appear?” And, you begin to work. You weave and you knit. You craft and you spin. A few stitches here. More is needed there. 

Your New Garment

Finally, you hold it up, examining what has been created.  It’s new, but there is no excitement about wearing it. You finally begin to slip it on—first one arm, then the other. You wrap it about yourself, tightening it around your waist. It’s heavy and worn-looking despite being new. The old, dark colors are woven throughout. 

You breathe. You sigh. And you wonder at how this new garment strangely brings a sense of comfort and warmth. You pause and say a prayer of thankfulness as you realize you are no longer trapped and tangled in grief. Instead, you now carry it around you. 

Strange how the longer you wear this new garment, the better it fits. 

Author's Note:

An illustrated narrative that I came across inspired the above words—several frames depicting grief's transformation from a giant tangled ball of threads into something woven and wearable. The visual story resonated deeply with me, so I chose to translate those images into words. I've searched for the original artwork to credit its creator, but haven't been able to locate it again. If anyone recognizes this concept, please let me know so I can properly acknowledge the artist who first envisioned this powerful metaphor.