You, with a View

by Jessica Joyce

The sky is so close. If I could just reach my hand up, and Gram could just reach hers down . . . maybe we could meet again.

“She was one of yours. She was rooted in every aspect of your life, so when she died, those roots pulled up and left everything a fucking mess.

That grief never goes away, but it can grow into something that you can handle, or even grow from.