Even Now, There Are Still Days So

Grief Doesn't Have A Plot. It Isn't Smooth. There Is No Beginning And Middle And End.

In My Adult Life, I Had Spent A Lot Of Time Angry At God, Mostly Over The Sudden Deaths In My Family - My Brother At 30, My Daughter At 5.

We Were A Family That Made Our Halloween Costumes. Or, More Accurately, My Mother Made Them. She Took No Suggestions Or Advice. Halloween Costumes Were Her Territory. She Was The Brain Behind My Brothers Winning Girl Costume, Stuffing Her Own Bra With Newspapers For Him To Wear Under A Cashmere Sweater And Smearing Red Lipstick On His Lips.

Time Passes And I Am Still Not Through It. Grief Isn't Something You Get Over. You Live With It. You Go On On With It Lodged In You. Sometimes I Feel Like I Have Swallowed A Pile Of Stones. Grief Makes Me Heavy. It Makes Me Slow. Even On Days When I Laugh A Lot, Or Dance, Or Finish A Project, Or Meet A Deadline, Or Celebrate, Or Make Love, It Is There. Lodged Deep Inside Of Me.

I Am The Woman With The Cool Vintage Glasses... I Am The Proud Wife Beside Her Husband... I Am The Writer Who Has Written A New Novel.