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People cannot bear to think there are channels of human experience that are closed off to them, that they’ll never know. People want to believe their experience is universal, that nothing’s outside their scope.
Regardless of how it felt now, the world would sooner or later have its foot on the gas pedal, on to the next bombing, the next shooting, the latest outrage, and we’d be forgotten.
They were so quick to define you, to pin you down to something.
It’s what we who are bereaved like to call “settling affairs,” only you were doing it for me from beyond the grave, like you knew I would be too busy trying to crawl into the casket to sweat the small stuff.
When you died I mourned you, but also the version of myself I was with you. So there were two deaths.
