Often I want to scream in protest of this heavy laden burden of Grief in loud, Capitol letters.
Sometimes I do.
I'm tired. I'm a little more gray, a little more quiet, and little less hungry, and a little less patient because I am without my boy.
Many times my answer to what people ask me is "I don't know". I'm just a little more cloudy and apprehensive. And afraid.
A quiet THANK YOU.
The many faces I saw at my brothers wake and funeral mass overwhelmed me and my family with strength and love. Any other moment I would've denied all available access to my wounds and pain. Protective of what is breaking me to pieces I suppose? But that day, somehow I knew I needed something.
Thanks to your imminent care, we got through this. The hugs, consoling, your precious presence slowly helping to rebuild my broken heart.
"We" will be ok.
RIP Tay-Tay.
