When We Were Widows

by Annette Chavez Macias

Grief, I’d learned, didn’t have a finish line. It was an endless journey. Some days the path was easy, and other days you’d be running perfectly fine and then, out of nowhere, you’d stumble, and the pain would come roaring back as if your loss had just happened.

We’d traveled alone in the dark for so long because our secrets and pride had kept us from realizing that we were on the same path all along.