Grief brings with it much more than just a smattering of tear stains or the hope that we won't let those memories slip away before we are ready.

No, grief brings much, much more; Guilt, and that feeling that maybe we could have done more to prolong the outcome. It brings to us knowledge that death is much closer than maybe we thought we knew.

This is why we choose, most of the time, not to feel.

We give up on tears and upturned expressions.

Most of the time this is a much safer way to deal with it all.

Not to feel means not to hurt.

Or so we hope.

It's not that I am stranger to death.

I have seen so many different people pass away before my eyes, or heard that they had been lost in gun battle from others returning to base. There have been so many deaths that I suppose I have lost count, maybe even lost a sense of really being strong enough to care.

If I had cried, or lost my head with each friend I have lost in the last nine years, I am pretty sure my sanity would be shot.

You could say I have found my own way to deal with each one I hear of. A much safer way that protects my fragility and preserves the energy that remains in me.

That remained in me.

But...

But everything is at a loss now. I'm empty.

I've cried too may tears, wheezed with too many choking sobs, and tried too many times to keep my composure as people offer their condolences.

At first they hadn't come, my body just settling into a state of shock but soon they seemed to find their feet. I'm not sure they have truly left yet, either, no matter how much I want... need them to.

I'm encased by emotion. I am lost to the white noise that has wrapped itself around me.

I'm walking, blinded by anything that doesn't pass beneath my feet, hopelessly looking to escape everything that is pinning me tightly.

I have to run.

I need to run.

But I don't.

I don't because I know no one understands me, no matter how many times they try to soothe me with their words, telling me they know how it feels.

No one would understand why I would need to leave with such haste.

None of them know.

They may have lost parents or friends but none of them of lost their husband.

None of them have lost the one person that they were counting on to keep their heads above water, keep them from drowning.

None of them know.

And I want to scream, tell them to stop aimlessly speaking words that I cannot process but I don't.

I remain silent, numb, arms holding me close to chests and my ears listening to their aimless words, although never truly digesting more than the sound.

I choose not to scream.

I choose to let the tears that remain to dry without my assistance.

I choose to simply sit, stare blankly past the entrance to this room I have found myself in and wait hopelessly for this ache in my chest to pass.

Waiting for something I know will never happen.