grief

I don’t know if I noticed the simple beauty of witnessing the first light of day at the time. The fog of grief still shrouded every corner of my mind. This trip was just another attempt to keep it from pulling me under. I ran toward the rising of the sun.

Time is a strange concept. It marches on while parts of me remain firmly planted in the past. It begs the question, who am I, really?

I put “heal” in quotations because as grieving people know, it’s a bit of a misnomer; you don’t really heal from grief; it merely evolves as time passes. There’s also never point where you are fully free from it.