Widowhood is a thousand practical tasks with a scream under them. I still reach for my phone before I remember there is no one to send the stupid little update to. I can keep the bills paid or I can breathe deeply, but not both on the same day. I know all the account numbers now and I would trade every one of them for one more boring Tuesday. Sometimes grief looks like school pickup and pretending my face is not breaking in public. Love did not fail. Biology did.
The Wall
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