When I am Not Afraid of the Dark

In the babyloss community, there's a lot of talk of riding the waves of grief.  The pain, it churns and rises and grabs you, hauls you under and then . . . ebbs calm again.  You kick, pull water with your arms, propel the surface to gasp water.  And soon you're breathing normally and the stitch in your side is gone and you can swim steadily toward shore again.  Then there is sand beneath your feet and you can walk and the sun is shining and --

that wave of pain floods high...