The Wall

I had a breakdown in the kitchen after the kids went to bed and then loaded the dishwasher anyway. That’s basically the whole experience in one sentence. You can be shattered and still scraping dried ketchup off a plate because tomorrow morning is coming whether you’re emotionally intact or not. I think that’s the part that changed me most. Not just losing her. Not just watching it happen. It’s the ongoing insult of having to remain operational while your inner world is rubble. There’s no pause button. No official bereavement intermission where life respectfully backs the hell up and gives you room. Nope. Soccer practice. Work messages. Lunches. Dishes. Bedtime. Trash night. Grief doesn’t replace life. It overlays it. Corrupts the file while the program keeps running. And because I keep getting through the day, people probably think I’m stronger than I feel. I’m not strong. I’m cornered.