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As I sit behind the steering wheel once again on the same highway where my dad gave me the tips I would use while driving for the rest of my life, I can’t help but think about my journey as a driver.

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There was a time in which I found myself grieving the loss of someone I loved with every single beat of my heart: my mother. That was the moment when I realized that pain, in every shape or form, is inevitable. 

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I did not believe that you’d died from cancer.
No, you died the day when you first got the news.
But my eulogy is not about that. 

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In all honesty, I have to undoubtedly admit that I don’t think I’m over you yet, but life carries on, and like the old adage goes, time will heal all wounds. 

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You know those people who are just so blatantly and ignorantly happy? That was me—well, for the first 21 years, at least.

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Now that you no longer live in this physical world, you might relate to what I am about to talk about, or perhaps not.

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Dear friends, if I haven’t told you about this crippling tragedy that I am dealing with at the moment, it is not because I don’t find your support helpful or that I don’t value our friendship. It simply means I am not ready to talk about it.

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I have noticed that grief is a lot like that twist on your left side when you’re running sprints. You notice the sting. Your legs halt for a moment. Is the cramp there because you were running or because you stopped?