This has been sitting in the draft folder while I tried to find my own words to add here... after all this time, I am afraid that I still have none. I realized recently that I am still numb, that I have still not begun to truly grieve, and therefore I often find it hard to reach those words trapped in my numbness.
They are there, as are the tears that spill out at odd and inconvenient times.
Thinking of you ... and wishing you were here, every day.
Original post:
Where you used to be,
there is a hole in the world,
which I find myself constantly walking
around in the daytime,
and falling in at night.
I miss you like hell.
~Edna St. Vincent Millay
There is a land of the living
and a land of the dead
and the bridge is love,
the only survival,
the only meaning.
- Thornton Wilder
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