Yes … grief pops up in a myriad of ways. A song, a particular sound, in the rustling of maple leaves. It walks with me and follows me. I’m afraid that one day if I open the door a tiny crack, all those unshed tears will gush out and never stop. I will drown in my tears.
Yes … grief pops up in a myriad of ways. A song, a particular sound, in the rustling of maple leaves. It walks with me and follows me. I’m afraid that one day if I open the door a tiny crack, all those unshed tears will gush out and never stop. I will drown in my tears.