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Loss does that, hits you out of the blue. You can be in the car or in class or at the movies, laughing and having a good time, and suddenly it’s as if someone has reached directly into the wound and squeezed with all their might.
It’s her. Always. It’s the suddenness of life changing in an instant that makes me anxious when I sleep and makes me tell myself to breathe when I’m awake.
It’s easy to give everyone what they want. What’s expected. The problem with doing this is you lose sight of where you truly begin and where the fake you, the one who tries to be everything to everyone, ends.
“It’s not moving on, Libbs. It’s moving differently. That’s all it is. Different life. Different world. Different rules. We don’t ever leave that old world behind. We just create a new one.”
I take her hand under the gray-blue sky and I’m home.
The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places. —Ernest Hemingway
