Day 932
Death crept up on me. The sun was shining. A soft breeze, the smell of spring, and my dad, lying lifeless in the grass. We ran out of time and we didn't even know the clock was counting down. We don't have an expiration date stamped on our ass. It's been 932 days. It isn't any easier. We do our life; our kids go to school, the adults go to work, we navigate the pandemic alongside everyone else. We just have to watch our step. A massive hole was blown in our world. Sometimes we fall in. On those days I feel like my eyes may never dry. I just leak from my face continuously, grateful for the mask I wear in public spaces that hides the inevitable runny nose. I'm used to tears now. They won't embarass me. I don't mind if strangers see my grief but it does make me feel guilty on occasion. They didn't consent to my mess. A funny thing happens when your world falls apart though. Your lose your tolerance for bullshit. I'm not interested in putting on a smi