In photographs of us together, she is always looking at the camera, and I am always looking at her.
I'm thinking the reason I've been so quiet all those years is only because Brian wasn't around yet for me to tell everything to.
I have a very low eerie threshold.
Me would like an invisibility cloak to get the hell out of this mess.
I'd been making desicions for days.I picked out the dress Bailey would wear forever-a black slinky one- innapropriate- that she loved.I chose a sweater to go over it, earrings, bracelet, necklace, her...
The.World.Is.Not.A.Safe.Place.
Let me just unsubscribe to my own mind already, because I don't get any of it.
Maybe a person is just made up of a lot of people," I say. "Maybe we're accumulating these new selves all the time.
I can't shove the dark out of my way.
I don't know how this can be but it can: A painting is both exactly rhe same and entirely different every single time you look at it.
As I walk through the redwood trees, my sneakers sopping up days of rain, I wonder why bereaved people even bother with mourning clothes, when grief itself provides such an unmistakable wardrobe.
Sadness pulses out of us as we walk. I almost expect the trees to lower their branches when we pass, the stars to hand down some light. I breathe in the horsy scent of eucalyptus, the thick sugary pin...
I don't believe time heals. I don't want it to. If I heal, doesn't that mean I've accepted the world without her?
For days and days, the rain beat its fists on the roof of our house— evidence of the terrible mistake God had made. Each morning, when I woke I listened for the tireless pounding, looked at the drear...
That's just how it is. Grief and love are conjoined, you don't get one without the other.
I drop on my back on the bed, panting and sweating. How will I survive this missing? How do others do it? People die all the time. Every day. Every hour. There are families all over the world staring...
Someone might as well roll up the whole sky, pack it away for good.
I'm in self-imposed exile, cradled between split branches, in my favorite tree in the woods behind school. I've been coming here every day at lunch, hiding out until the bell rings, whittling words in...
When I wear her clothes, I just feel safer, like she's whispering in my ear.
There are people everywhere standing in line at the movies, buying curtains, walking dogs, while inside, their hearts are ripping to shreds.
