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Memory is a house with ten thousand rooms; it is a village slated to be inundated.
Maybe at some point a person should stop accumulating judgments and start letting them go.
It’s okay, I say. I’ve been saying it’s okay a lot lately. I’ve said it to church ladies and flight attendants and counselors. I say, I’m fine, it’s okay. I don’t know if I’m fine or if it’s okay, or if saying it makes anyone feel better. Mostly it’s just something to say.
Don’t tell me how to grieve. Don’t tell me ghosts fade away eventually, like they do in movies, waving goodbye with see-through hands. Lots of things fade away but ghosts like these don’t, heartbreak like this doesn’t. The axe blade is still as sharp and real inside me as it was six months ago.
