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Pain changed people. I couldn’t go back to the way I’d been, because I wasn’t the same person who’d left.
“We survive on sweet tea and complaining, plain and simple. Mostly the sweet tea, if I’m tellin’ it to you straight.”
Grief was a capricious companion. Sometimes distant and aloof. Sometimes so overwhelming it was hard to think a straight thought. Its mood changed at whim, making it emotionally exhausting to keep up. There were times, like right now, when it felt as though I’d been grieving my whole life long. Probably because I had been.
“Grief can change a person to the point where they become someone they don’t know, or even like very much.
Grief can change a person to the point where they become someone they don’t know, or even like very much.
Seems to me there’s a whole lot of people around here carrying around a heap of pain tied to the past. Might be time to start letting that go and start healing.
As I headed upstairs to take a shower, I could only shake my head at my strategy to keep people at arm’s length. It had proven impossible. I’d done the complete opposite. I’d become a hugger.
“That a person you love is never truly gone—they’re always there, whether it’s in a memory … or a dream.” Or in a heart. All of you will always be in my heart, and part of me will always be in yours. That’s a damn good legacy, if you ask me. “And if that knowledge isn’t the greatest gift of all,” Summer added, “I don’t know what is.”
“It was a choice. I could either keep dwelling on what had happened, letting it define me, or take the valuable—and sometimes painful—lessons I’d learned from the relationship and move on.
“Yes, ma’am.” Unable to stop myself, I hugged her. Good God. I’d become a hugger and a ma’am-er. How in the world had this happened? But … I knew how. Wicklow had gotten hold of me but good.
