Sometimes the kids are doing okay and that weirdly makes me sad too. Obviously I want them okay. I want them laughing and playing and being kids as much as possible. I would crawl through broken glass for that. But there are moments when they seem happy and I feel this strange mix of relief and ache, because part of me realizes life is already teaching them how to continue without her. And that’s good. And it sucks. Because I want them healing. I also want them untouched by this. I want impossible things all the time now. I want growth without loss. Joy without absence. Memory without pain. Adaptation without distance. Not available, apparently. So I watch them play. I thank God or the universe or luck or whatever that they still can. And I grieve the fact that children even have to learn this skill set at all.
The Wall
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