Grief is innocent questions that you both love and fear.
It's statistics that falsely normalize.
It's hearing platitudes that yank the oxygen from your lungs.
It's tiptoeing in the dark amid the shattered glass of broken dreams.
Grief is so many "ands:" devastated and calm, scarred and left standing, inside a hurricane and at peace.
It's being totally alone and yet intimately accompanied.
You need to find yourself again too.
Grief is a phone booth with no keypad.
A broken bone hidden beneath your skin.
An unassuming marking on your calendar.
A hole in your heart bigger than the sky.