n

my mother will not see me grow old. she will not see my skin wrinkle, or my hair begin to wilt. she is the creator of my life, but still merely passing through it.

you died and i desperately need to tell you how it feels. i need you to hold me upright while i show you this hole that exists now in my heart and the emptiness that swallows my soul. i need you to hold me while i cry out for you, and scream at god and ask him why. you died and you are the only one who can get me through this.

“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”