I know what I'm doing. I'm nothing if
not predictable when I grieve.
The insomnia returns first, then my normally impressive appetite departs. I withdraw, needing time and solitude to process. I put off discussing the loss with my best friend because once I do, it will be real.
I cry in private. The tears may well up when I'm with friends but I'll force them away, unwilling to be the girl crying at the bar, in the airport, in church.
People ask how I'm doing and I say, “I'm in shock. We're all still in shock...”
This was a tough one to write. Join me over at A Deeper Family to read the rest.
