Miracle challenge number 6, choice number 3 – write a short story using the words ‘plenty, postulated & suitable.’ 

While completing week number 21 in the ‘choosing your breath’ workshop I had think what ‘grief is….to me’ The grief of losing a child is like losing a piece of yourself. If I could illustrate this grief as something tangible, or describe it as something, what would it be and why? The image that comes to my mind is an ‘onion.’ I think grief is like an onion. You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep. It’s hard to imagine a civilisation without onions. 
Each day is a new layer of that onion. Some days the taste is sweet like the way we make a yummy caramelised onion to add to a favourite meal, or the perfect zing to a summer salad. Other days we are remind by it’s bitterness and way it repeats in the depths of our bellies. The vile juices react with our body and makes us hurt from the inside. I have never been able to cut an onion without crying. Sometimes the tears shed will be driven by the happiest of times we’ve shared, but the other tears will be shed because of the future that’s lost. Their are plenty of layers within the onion so every day grief will be different. 
But over time the way I visualise my onion may change and I hope it does. In my words of describing ‘grief’ as the image of an onion, I have postulated my opinion that grief changes from day today. One beautiful lady explains the ever changing days of grief beautifully – ‘ as far as I can see, grief will never truly end. It may become softer over time, more gentle, and some days will feel sharp. But grief will last as long as love does – forever. It’s simply the way of absence of your loved one manifests in your heart. A deep longing, accompanied by the deepest love. Some days, the heavy fog may return, and the next day, it may recede, once again. It’s all an ebb and flow, a constant dance of sorrow and joy, pain and sweet love’ – Lexi Behrndt 
Grief is like an onion, I peel back the layers, I forgive the past, I let it go. I feel the gratitude flow. I am slowly peeling off many layers of me to find myself. This is a more suitable way for me to view my grief in a tangible form – the humble vegetable that grows deep dark underground and alone – the onion. The best pick of the onion lies above the ground in the long green stems that grow and reach for the warmth of the sun. We too need to reach for the things that warms our heart in times of grief, and our tears as we cut through the onion can also help with personal growth, for the good days and the one’s we’d give anything not to feel the way we do. 
I’m quite ok with thinking like Shrek – ‘onions have layers, ogres have layers.’ We all have layers.