Sometimes, darlings, I just want to speak it, shout it, say the words aloud. Sometimes, the spoken word is stronger, more relevant…like
Mourning is not for the weak or the fragile or the breakable or the inconsolable or the insane.
And I, my dears, am all of these things.
To be more direct, mourning has broken me wide open and parts of my body and mind and organs were sprawled out all over the place. It was not a pretty sight.
——-My sister was murdered by her husband on May 26th 2010. The mourning never ends. See you on the other side, my lovely Kay.—-
Your face is fading.
–Sometimes I sit on the couch while watching Parenthood or something like that and imagine it’s all a dream, a nightmare, something ugly I’ll wake up from.
You know those terrifying dreams when you awaken in a cold sweat uttering, “O’ God, O’ God, I’m glad that wasn’t real.”