I’m still not quite ready to start writing again. The raw shockiness has passed. I hope.
It hit hard this morning- my first morning at home in over 18 years that didn’t begin with my cat on my lap. I crawled back into bed for a bit for a good cry and a hug before I was ready to face the day.
For the most part, I just feel that scooped-out void. And I’m reminded all over again why it is called heartache. The chest literally aching from the loss.
And of course, I’m also brutally reminded of the fact that every loss carries echoes of the ones before. After a certain age and/or life experience, there’s no such thing as a singular grief.
While I’m adapting and acclimating, I leave you with some of the interesting articles that have come across my feed in the last few weeks:
And one I’m a bit dubious about, but I’d love to hear others’ thoughts: