Grief sucks, pure and simple. I’ve been grieving my father’s death now for 12 years, and over that time, it hasn’t exactly lessened.
Grief is a moth that goes through endless cycles of metamorphosis. The first time you emerge from its chrysalis, you believe yourself changed but that’s it, you’re done, your wings will sprout and you’ll have to acclimatize to your new reality.
But then, it changes again, and again, into new and nightmarish forms. Its dimensions and volume haven’t changed, only the way its parts fit together.Read more on themighty.com