She would not want me to mourn—she told me as much—and I am trying so hard to be strong but…” “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?”
