The part I was not ready for was how ordinary everything stayed. 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. Her coat is still where she left it because moving it feels like agreeing with reality. Sometimes grief looks like school pickup and pretending my face is not breaking in public. I was not prepared to become the only adult who remembers how the whole family machine worked.
The Wall
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