griefA collection of 9 posts

Grief doesn’t whisper, it thunders— a storm inside, relentless, pushing, pressing, pounding my chest until I can't catch my breath. I don’t know how to hold…

We promised to share the weight, so I carried the groceries and the grief. I took your name, and the calls, and the questions no parent should have to answer.…

I was a mother. I was a wife. I was— —I was The door clicks shut— and I’m breathless air, a question unasked, unformed. The street rings under unmoored…

You’re not going to be ready. Not when it happens— not when he arrives, not when you hold the test in your shaking hand, thinking you did everything right,…

Day 4 She turned down the radio when a child sang. Didn’t say why, But her fingers curled against her thigh like they were remembering how to hold a…

By breath and bone and fleeting trace, I call you— by sigh mistaken, empty space, I call you— by echoes caught in fraying thread, by shadows drifting near my bed,…