“You are strong,” he whispers in my ear. “Grief is not a simple or fast process. Every loss hits us differently.” “But I have mourned her, I have said my goodbyes.” I press my eyes closed as my arms wrap tightly around his waist, locking by gripping my elbows. “Why does that shroud of death continue to haunt me?” “The pain manifests in ways we least expect, at times we least expect.” He kisses my temple gently.
