What Remains True

by Janis Thomas

This is grief. Overwhelming and insidious grief that refuses to be ignored or denied or temporarily tucked away.

Maybe soon. Maybe, if I can just pull myself out from under the weight of grief. Fucking treacherous grief that colors everything a bright shade of rage. Rage that my son was taken from me. It’s difficult to see the light at the end of the tunnel, to imagine that there will ever be a time I’m not consumed with grief and rage.

She told me that happiness was not some elusive force that only showered down upon the deserving, but a choice we all make despite the fact that life is hard.