Grief. Noun. A multifaceted response to loss.
Grief. Noun. The empty blue glare of the alarm clock at 3:45 AM.
Grief. Verb. The headache drumming in Barry's right temple.
Grief. Verb. The Earth rising hours later with white, joyless light.
Grief. Noun. The stale taste of fresh coffee.
Grief. Verb. Boarding a subway to work.
Grief. Verb. Going to work at all – because calling in sick means speaking to someone.
Grief. Noun. The interfering buzz of conversations struggling through a cloud of white noise.
Grief. Noun. A meaningless memo requesting his presence.
Grief. Noun. The trash bin where the unread memo uptakes permanent residence.
Grief. Noun. The heavy thump of the door to his lab sliding shut.
Grief. Verb. Staring out the window at the steel skeleton of the city, questioning everything.
Grief. Verb. Sitting in his back-aching chair, waiting for the discomfort to offset the apathy.
Grief. Noun. Self-awareness to a degree that makes his shaking hands an alien phenomenon.
Grief. Noun. Self-awareness that makes even the idea of work nihilistic.
Grief. Verb. Clocking out two hours early.
Grief. Verb. Inhabiting crowded streets without recognizing any humans among the faces.
Grief. Noun. The cool darkness of the unattended apartment.
Grief. Noun. The headache pounding in Barry's forehead.
Grief. Noun. The belated and unmotivating realization that he hasn't eaten lunch.
Grief. Verb. Popping a small handful of painkillers in a futile attempt to resolve the headache.
Grief. Verb. Drinking shower water because he's only thirsty when it's right in front of him.
Grief. Verb. Pacing the main floor after because he doesn't want to be still and think.
Grief. Noun. The incessant ring of the TV.
Grief. Noun. The world news in a sentence: all roads lead to death.
Grief. Noun. The burn in his eyes, like salt in an open wound.
Grief. Noun. Half a box of dry cereal consumed wholesale.
Grief. Noun. The lithification of muscle and bone once a place to rest has been chosen.
Grief. Verb. Being cold enough to want a sweater but too numb to retrieve one.
Grief. Verb. Making do with his own body heat by curling inward and staring at the static.
Grief. Noun. Two unanswered calls.
Grief. Noun. Thirty unanswered texts.
Grief. Noun. Hey, just checking in. Read: 3:45 PM.
Grief. Noun. The unceasing passage of time as the Earth sets and dark blue light sinks into the space.
Grief. Noun. Keys in a dish, coat on a rack, and Iris' unanswered greeting.
Grief. Noun. Sleep prickling at the edge of his consciousness all night but refusing to take him down under the waves.
Grief. Noun. The cold blue glare of the alarm clock at 3:45 AM.
Grief. Noun. Every single task requires momentum, including getting out of bed.
Grief. Verb. Getting out of bed at 5:19 AM.
Grief. Verb. Consuming the rest of the dry cereal.
Grief. Verb. Every step is a little longer than it was two days ago.
Grief. Noun. Exhaustion sets in as soon as he sits in his work chair.
Grief. Verb. Hating every polite interruption to his mindless work.
Grief. Verb. Snapping at every polite interruption after the fourth one.
Grief. Verb. Being told to go home.
Grief. Noun. Sitting on a bench in the sun, desperate to feel something.
Grief. Noun. Being ignored by passing strangers and finding no peace in it.
Grief. Noun. Working up the strength to stand and wander off.
Grief. Verb. Sitting at a small table at Jitters, trying to be present.
Grief. Verb. Typing, deleting, typing, deleting texts.
Grief. Noun. Settling on silence because empty responses take too much energy.
Grief. Verb. The tip jar has four dollars and eighty-three cents in it. Someone puts a quarter in. Now it has five dollars and eight cents in it. Someone else drops in loose change. It takes a while for Barry to resolve the new total. Six dollars and seventy-one cents. Someone puts a quarter in. Six dollars and eighty-six cents.
Grief. Verb. The Earth sets, and still he watches the tip jar, idle for hours now.
Grief. Noun. The café will close in fifteen minutes.
Grief. Verb. The café is closing.
Grief. Verb. Wandering the dark streets home, cold and unsettled because he doesn't remember what the last amount in the tip jar was.
Grief. Verb. The door creaks when he opens it.
Grief. Noun. His stomach won't accept food graciously.
Grief. Noun. Lying down but staring at the ceiling for the rest of the night.
Grief. Noun. The bleary blue glare of the alarm clock at 3:45 AM.
Grief. Noun. Is this the rest of his life?
Grief. Noun. Waiting for the next person to die.
Grief. Noun. Waiting for the next subway train to arrive.
Grief. Noun. Waiting for the next event to disrupt his passive existence.
Grief. Noun. Waiting for the Earth to rise and set and rise and set again.
Grief. Noun. Waiting for his own body to expire, at some hour undisclosed, in some manner unpredicted, with something approaching relief.
Grief. Noun. The silent blue glare of the alarm clock at 3:45 AM.
Grief. Verb. Resolving to get out of bed before 5:00 AM.
Grief. Verb. Being disappointed and relieved that he succeeds by 5:15.
Grief. Noun. Scalding hot water that drums against his back, tightening muscles.
Grief. Verb. Looking with dismal reluctance at his upcoming schedule.
Grief. Verb. Calling off would mean speaking with another human being.
Grief. Verb. Calling off would mean staying here.
Grief. Verb. Responding belatedly to a text with: Sorry. I've been busy.
Grief. Noun. He hasn't.
Grief. Noun. He's never been less busy. Nothing is important enough to do.
Grief. Noun. What is important? What matters?
Grief. Verb. Tick, tock, chimes the clock. How can time pass if he doesn't do anything?
Grief. Noun. Life passes, regardless of whether he does anything.
Grief. Verb. The headache behind his eyes feels permanent.
Grief. Noun. The watchful blue glare of the alarm clock at 3:45 AM.
Grief. Noun. Cancelling the appointment would mean speaking with another human being.
Grief. Noun. Keeping it would mean speaking with another human being.
Grief. Verb. Keeping his mouth shut during the therapy session because it's easier to be silent than it is to be alive.
Grief. Verb. Pulling away as hard as he can from even the idea of interacting with other people.
Grief. Verb. Resenting every attempt to get him to open up about his anguish.
Grief. Noun. What is there to say? I'm sad. He's not sad. I'm angry. He's not angry. I'm tired. He is tired.
Grief. Noun. He's always tired.
Grief. Verb. Donning the red suit of armor like it belongs on him.
Grief. Verb. Aching for the end of the day, and dreading it.
Grief. Verb. Staring at the task in front of him until he is arthritic with tunnel vision, unable to turn his head and acknowledge that someone is standing near him.
Grief. Noun. Eager to appear dispassionate, and desperate to feel anything but.
Grief. Noun. I didn't even like him that much.
Grief. Noun. I brought him into this family.
Grief. Noun. Should we have a funeral?
Grief. Noun. Why is that a question?
Grief. Noun. I don't want to go to another funeral.
Grief. Noun. We can't have a funeral without a body.
Grief. Noun. We have to have a funeral. The team needs it.
Grief. Verb. Not caring what the team needs.
Grief. Verb. Not caring what he needs.
Grief. Noun. What does he need?
Grief. Noun. Sleep.
Grief. Noun. The familiar blue glare of the alarm clock at 3:45 PM.
Grief. Noun. The headache has not gone away.
Grief. Verb. Looking out the window and realizing with dizzying awareness that he has switched nights and days.
Grief. Verb. Dreading the oncoming darkness and the loneliness it entails.
Grief. Noun. He's always lonely, now.
Grief. Noun. You hated him being near you.
Grief. Noun. I didn't hate it.
Grief. Noun. Why am I stuck on this one?
Grief. Verb. Feeling tears burn his eyes because there are no more boxes of cereal.
Grief. Noun. The effort to go to the store to get more is insurmountable.
Grief. Verb. Falling asleep on the couch.
Grief. Noun. The unfamiliar blue glare of the alarm clock at 4:18 AM.
Grief. Verb. Struggling to get on his feet again.
Grief. Verb. Aching for someone to throw him a line.
Grief. Verb. Sitting on the edge of the bed, head in hands, desperate to lose himself in the peaceful silence.
Grief. Verb. Putting on the mask of normalcy, and getting up.
Grief. Verb. Staring out the orange-hazed window, tears burning like salt in his eyes, throat choked up and body trembling, he strains to contain the emotion that wants to escape not in a tidy way that he can control, but in a wave that he has no power over, emotions that he has no power over, a life that he is grasping by a straw and still losing his hold on.
Grief. Verb. The door opens.
Grief. Verb. Joe walks in.
Grief. Verb. Joe hugs him, and he doesn't collapse into the hug, terrified to collapse, terrified of what will be left if he falls apart again.
Grief. Verb. He falls apart again.
Grief. Noun. It's my fault.
Grief. Noun. I froze.
Grief. Noun. I should have tried harder.
Grief. Noun. I let him die.
Grief. Noun. I let them all die.
Grief. Noun. I couldn't save Mom. I couldn't save Dad. I couldn't save Eddie or Ronnie or H.R. I couldn't save Stein. I couldn't save Snart. I couldn't save Bette San Souci or Farooq Gibran or Ed Slick or Al Rothstein. I couldn't save you, Joe. I couldn't save you or Iris, or Cisco, or Caitlin, or Harry, or Jesse, or Oliver, or Felicity, or anyone from Vandal Savage's attacks, Mark Mardon's attacks, the singularity, the particle accelerator explosion, the senseless violence of everyday crime. There are so many people I couldn't save that I – I don't know how many there are any more.
Grief. Noun. I haven't been counting, Joe.
Grief. Noun. I lost track, Joe.
Grief. Noun. I'm a horrible fucking person, Joe.
Grief. Noun. I want to die because they shouldn't have to. Not for me. Never for me.
Grief. Noun. I want to die because I don't deserve to live if they're not here. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve any of this.
Grief. Noun. I'm so fucking broken, Joe.
Grief. Noun. Please. Please help me. I don't know what to do.
Grief. Noun. I don't even know how to feel anymore because I know everyone is going to die.
Grief. Noun. I've died.
Grief. Noun. We've all died, in some universe, at some time. We're already dead, Joe.
Grief. Noun. None of it matters, Joe.
Grief. Noun. It has to matter, Joe.
Grief. Noun. I need it to matter.
Grief. Noun. I need a reason to keep going.
Grief. Noun. This can't be the end.
Grief. Noun. Please help me. I'm drowning. I'm drowning, and I don't know how long I can hold my breath.
Grief. Noun. I'm so tired.
Grief. Noun. I just want to sleep until it stops.
Grief. Noun. I don't even know what it is.
Grief. Noun. Please make it stop.
Grief. Noun. Please help me, Joe.
Grief. Noun. Please.
Grief. Noun. The quiet blue glare of the alarm clock at 5:18 AM.
Grief. Verb. Growling stomach.
Grief. Verb. Chugging down a box of dry cereal that he doesn't remember buying, but it's there.
Grief. Verb. Getting dressed. Getting ready to face the world again.
Grief. Verb. The art of getting his shoes on and tied, like it is an accomplishment.
Grief. Verb. Arriving on foot at work.
Grief. Verb. Sitting down with Captain Singh for the first time in a long time.
Grief. Noun. I don't know how to process this. I – I don't know what's wrong, but something's wrong. Something's wrong with me, and I can't be the person that you need when I'm in this state. I need to take some time off.
Grief. Noun. Take all the time you need, Mr. Allen.
Grief. Noun. He doesn't want time.
Grief. Noun. He doesn't know what he wants.
Grief. Verb. Walking out of the office, walking out of the elevator at the ground floor, walking out into the blinding white sunlight.
Grief. Verb. Showing up at STAR Labs.
Grief. Noun. A burn of shame and relief that Cisco is there.
Grief. Noun. Shame, because he knows what he did, and Cisco knows, and they do not know how to talk about that unspeakable event that took Dante's life.
Grief. Noun. Relief, because he wanted Cisco to be there, alone.
Grief. Verb. Stepping into Cisco's apartment with the familiarity that formerly belonged to his own.
Grief. Noun. The first bite of greasy pizza. It's hot and sweet against his senses. He eats the entire box before he reaches for empty air.
Grief. Verb. They order six more, and eat those, too.
Grief. Noun. It starts to feel inevitable.
Grief. Noun. It is. But that doesn't mean it's pointless.
Grief. Noun. How can't it be? If it's all going to end, what are we trying to do, Cisco?
Grief. Noun. We're trying to protect this little bit of happiness that we have right now.
Grief. Noun. Are we happy?
Grief. Noun. No. But we're trying to be. Pursuit of happiness, y'know?
Grief. Noun. I'm tired of chasing it.
Grief. Noun. It's not about finding it.
Grief. Noun. What do you mean?
Grief. Noun. We're never going to be "happy." At least, not in the way we use the word – like it's supposed to be euphoric, unadulterated joy forever. Something will always be off. Something – a lot of things – will fall short. But we try to be the happiest that we can be. The most satisfied that we can be with what we do have, and what we can have. We can want for more and still be happy. We can be sad and still pursue better days. We have to. It's the only way to live. The things that fall short are never going away, but that doesn't mean we can't want the life we have.
Grief. Noun. I'm sorry.
Grief. Noun. I know.
Grief. Noun. I'm so sorry, Cisco.
Grief. Noun. I couldn't be your friend if I still blamed you for what happened. It wasn't you.
Grief. Noun. It was.
Grief. Noun. I know.
Grief. Noun. Ralph was a dick.
Grief. Noun. Yeah. Yeah, he was.
Grief. Noun. He was getting better.
Grief. Noun. He was.
Grief. Noun. He didn't deserve to die.
Grief. Noun. No, he didn't.
Grief. Noun. How do we keep doing this, Cisco?
Grief. Noun. Any way we can. Getting up. Going to work. Trying to save the world.
Grief. Noun. I used to be able to get over grief.
Grief. Noun. You used to be able to bury it.
Grief. Noun. I don't want it out in the open. I don't want to live this way. I feel like a bomb. I'm sad, I'm angry, I'm relieved, I'm desperate.
Grief. Noun. You just take it on as it comes. You can't get over what's happened in a day. It won't be one moment. It'll be the rest of our lives. We'll always be grieving for them.
Grief. Noun. I don't want to grieve anymore.
Grief. Noun. Grief isn't always painful. Loss is.
Loss is experiencing life without that person in those spaces. It's a transitional process. I still want to hear Dante laugh, but I have to watch videos to do it, now. I can't just conjure up the sense memory. I still want to feel his hug, but I can't say I remember how it feels. He's becoming more and more part of my past, and it scares me that there may come a day when I don't feel pain for his death because I'm afraid that it will mean that I will have stopped loving him.
But that's not true. Loss and love aren't the same thing. Loss is feeling their absence, struggling in the aftermath of that final moment. Love is remembering their impact on us and wanting them to be present with us going forward, even if they never can be. Love is understanding that they're gone and that we're going to keep moving forward without bastardizing our lives and our relationships or feeling wrong for trying to fill in spaces that belonged to those people. We won't fill those spaces. I will never have Dante again, but I can still have my friends, and my family, and every other human being on Earth to find the fulfillment and belonging and love that I found with Dante. It won't be the same. It can't be. But it is what I can do, and it's what I live with.
And that's when grief becomes more love than loss. I love my brother, even though he isn't here anymore. I love him even though it doesn't hurt to wake up every morning knowing that I'll never have a conversation with him again. I love him even though I can't remember his voice off-hand. I love him even though I'll keep growing past that time in my life. I love him even though there will be a day when I have spent more of my life without him than with. I'm still grieving – I'm still missing him, and thinking about him, and feeling all of the emotions associated with it – but I'm still alive. I'm still living. And I'm doing what I have to do to keep living: finding meaning, finding fulfillment.
Grief. Noun. I miss them.
Grief. Noun. Me too.
Grief. Noun. I don't know why Ralph is the breaking point.
Grief. Noun. We love people differently. We grieve differently, too.
Grief. Noun. I've handled it before.
Grief. Noun. You've buried it before.
Grief. Noun. I'm so empty.
Grief. Noun. I know.
Grief. Noun. I miss them.
Grief. Noun. I know.
Grief. Noun. I don't want to grieve anymore.
Grief. Noun. I'm sorry.
Grief. Noun. I can't feel anything, and I'm still terrified of losing anyone else. How I can't imagine the world without you, or Iris, or Caitlin or Joe or anyone who is mine in it.
Grief. Noun. Heard a quote once. "Love is not safe."
Grief. Noun. It really isn't.
Grief. Noun. But it's worth it.
Grief. Noun. Is it?
Grief. Noun. It has to be. In the end, it's all that we have.
Grief. Noun. Thank you, Cisco.
Grief. Noun. You staying?
Grief. Noun. Do you want me to?
Grief. Noun. I wouldn't offer if I wasn't willing.
Grief. Noun. But do you want me to?
Grief. Noun. Yes.
Grief. Noun. Then yes.
Grief. Noun. The soft blue glare of the alarm clock at 3:45 AM.
Grief. Verb. Waking up in an unfamiliar bed to a snoring bedmate.
Grief. Noun. Iris doesn't snore.
Grief. Verb. Walking carefully through the motions of being alive in the earliest hours of the day.
Grief. Noun. Iris: I was thinking about staying with Dad for the night, so that's actually good timing.
Grief. Verb. Wondering when the guilt at not noticing Iris', or even Cisco's, or anyone else's grief regarding the situation, will arise.
Grief. Noun. Triumph at finding a half-box of dry cereal.
Grief. Verb. Thanking Cisco for his hospitality at 6:15 AM.
Grief. Verb. Sitting on the couch playing video games because they don't need to think about the rest of the world when they're ensconced in another.
Grief. Verb. Earth rise floods the space with golden light. It even feels warm.
Grief. Verb. Rallying the strength to face the world again.
Grief. Verb. Prompting a funeral for the first time.
Grief. Noun. Relief when Cisco nods wordlessly in agreement.
Grief. Noun. The way sunlight feels on his face when he steps out of the apartment complex.
Grief. Noun. The way the coffee tastes a little less stale, because he doesn't have to forget how Ralph stood in line beside him.
Grief. Noun. The slow reconstruction of one's life after it has experienced loss, beginning with the understanding of loss and the ultimate acceptance of a different existence.
Grief. Verb. Loving in the absence of the thing.
Grief. Noun. 3:45 AM. Pressing on.