How are you doing, they ask me. I want to say, read this blog. But I also don’t want to say that. I don’t want the concern or sympathy. I certainly don’t want the empathy. Surely that would mean having to imagine your own motherloss. And I don’t want that.
What happened I am asked. Nothing new. I just tipped over into this well of grief for a bit. Can’t see the light just yet but I’ll climb out in due course of time. Until then, I’m not there.
I don’t want to talk. There is too much in my head. I sometimes write to make some space then it fills up with new rage and grief.
Comments
Post a Comment