I am not alive if I am only a wispy memory in someone’s fickle brain . . .
Grief, Bereavement
What an awful thing then, being there in our house together with our daughter gone, trying to be equal to so many sudden orders of sorrow, any one of which alone would have wrenched us from our fragile orbits around each other.
Sadness, Loss, Grief
To multiply the years and divide by the desire to live is a kind of false accounting.
Sadness, Loneliness, Grief
The train blows through towndelivering reality,slapping my face and screaming,“You are alone”Rose colored memories drown,taking their last breath.
Death, Sadness, Loss
Why write wrong if the writing won’t right the wrong? (90)
Grief, Writing
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