She left November last year and I thought I was okay with it. I didn’t feel anything. Who cares who will be the next person to die?
But things are different lately. Coz I miss her at this time. And nobody knows. At this point I'm not sure if it's depression or grief.
Grief is part of my life now. It just is and there's nothing I can do about it. I'm not going to stifle it or compartmentalise it. This may mean I'll be feeling it until I'm eighty. I'm gonna feel what I feel, with no right or wrong. Grieving doesn't mean I'm not still living, weeding, parenting, recovering, doing Valentines, cooking meals, cleaning the toilet. It just means that all of those things are harder.
I am turning 40 on June and the older I get, the less I understand life. I don't know if love is worth the pain. I don't know anything. When one plucked the roots, the whole plant will be gone, leaving a bare space where it once stood. So we plant some other seeds, see if they take. Really, we won't know what stays or what fades away.
I just thought I'd let you know that my crying for her is done in private. It's primal and unlike any cry I've ever cried.