The waves of grief hit. And hit hard. But I'm thankful.
It is not your door.
I've had this in draft for almost 2 months wondering if I should post. I read a quote that resonated with me..."When you come out of a storm you won't be the same person that walked in...that's what a storm is about." So here I am relating to the door on a house. Some people like the color of my door and some don't. But it was my storm, my door - my house.
It Takes a Village
I say goodbye again. A reminder of my child now gone is that I no longer need my village.
The silence of grief is sometimes deafening. The reality of year two is painful.