"How long does it take to recover from the loss of someone you love?"
The blind sister withdrew her hand and dropped it back on her knee. "That is a question with no answer," she said. "For some it takes weeks. For others, years. Grief is a spiral path, and we all walk it at our own pace. You think you have moved away from its dense heart, but the next few steps bring you closer to the center again."
"It's just--every time I think I've left it behind, I find it around the corner again."
"It hides behind familiar things," the blind sister agreed. "And it waits."
"Will it ever go away?"
The blind sister reached out again and took Val' hand in her own. "Probably not," she said gently. "But it will grow more manageable. Less like a wild animal and more like the tiny mouse that skitters through your house, startling you, and maybe for a moment stopping your heart. Not perhaps something you welcome, but something you need not fear."
Val nodded dumbly, knowing the woman couldn't see her. "Thank you," she said. "Most people have told me I'll be fine when enough time has gone by."
"You will be fine. You'll just be different."
Sharon Shinn, Whispering Wood


















