There’s a sad sort of beauty in the way grief goes liquid and takes different shapes to fill the body it’s in. The emptier someone leaves you, the more your insides swim with their loss. Some endings are about mourning what’s gone and some are about accepting what you never even had. The perfect husband. The perfect life. But perfect isn’t the same as right. Perfect things can be all wrong. Losing something that was so imperfect in all the loveliest ways hurts infinitely worse.
