I remember you handing me my high school diploma. Giving me a copy of Oh, The Places You’ll Go! with a note in the front cover that is now my most prized possession. I remember you telling me how proud you were.
I would smile as I poured two glasses of Apothic Red while you sunk into the couch as you did every night. Pizza on the coffee table, wine in our hands. This was our happy place.
Give yourself the gift of time, effort and kindness.
Will I ever heal? I don’t think so.
Death sucks. It hurts and it rips and it scars you. Right now, I know it seems as if there are no words that can fix this.
When he tells you he loves you, accept the words. Accept the feeling.
I don’t think that grieving is a fabricated term, I just feel that the affiliations with the definition can be more hindering than helpful.
Soulmates are absolutely everywhere. In many many forms.