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I thought I was past grieving what I lost, but maybe grief isn’t linear. Maybe I can accept what I’ve lost and still mourn it. Maybe I always will.
The hearing aid is for me, not for others’ convenience.
Life begets death begets life. The only thing we can do is honor the beauty and dependability of that cycle.
Think about it. We don’t bother with people we’re indifferent to. We provoke and prank and tease those who get under our skin and make us feel, people who incite our passion.
“Your best is always good enough,” Mama says. “Your best just doesn’t always mean that things turn out how you want.”
I didn’t need you. I don’t need anyone. “But, Sunshine,” I mutter to the empty room, “what if I need you?”
Willa, your grief is valid. Your pain is real.”
“You took the time you needed, Willa. I was always going to be here waiting.”
“I’m scared too, Sunshine. This is vulnerable shit.” His mouth is a breath away from mine. “I just know I’d rather be afraid with you than fearless with anyone else.”
“Willa Rose Sutter, I will do everything humanly possible with every breath I have never to hurt you.”
“I want what you want,” I tell him, loud and clear, slow and sure. I don’t want him to miss a word I say. “All-in, fair and square. I want to be afraid with you rather than fearless and alone. Only when it’s us.”
