I never wanted to write about grief, not here, not as often as I am. But grief doesn't run to my schedule, it has an agenda of it's own and descends at a whim oblivious to my goings on.
Some say it comes in waves, but that would suggest a rhythm one can predict, like tides that run with the moon. I feel no rhythm in my grief from the death of my mother three months ago ,but I do live in a slow motion pace inside a bubble from which I see my altered world.
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