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Some days I want to sit in my closet with a blanket wrapped around me as I remember the sound of his voice saying my name. "Alma, Alma, Alma" like I was a trouble maker. It reminds me that we both existed at the same time and shared so much. Then there are days when I can't feel, hear, or connect to the place I stand in let alone the people around me. Those days are hard... Like I'm stuck... I don't know where I should be. I just know I have all of this to process. It feels daunting... so, each day that I get up, I make sure to take at least one step. Even if that's the only one I take for the day... Its become my one constant goal. The step that will one day be followed by more. For now, I sit here, revisiting every memory like its a wish my heart needs.
Its such a messy moment.
Yes, Ash. I hear you.
Grief is overwhelming. It takes over all aspects of us, including our ability to verbalise.
Some days are better than others. Some days are less painful than others.
My mother died in April from vascular dementia, after a five year battle. She knew something as wrong during those five years. She just could not verbalise it. Instead, she expressed it through the horror in her eyes. I often see that horror in her eyes in between deep sleep and waking. On really bad days, I see it in the mirror. That look says more than words can.
I wish you the best.
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