TALKING TO THE MOON.

xi.

[ night nineteen — 12:21 am ]

I USED TO THINK I COULDN'T GO A DAY WITHOUT HER SMILE. Without telling her things and hearing her voice back.

Then that day arrived and it was so damn hard, but the next was harder. And I knew with a sinking feeling it was going to get worse and I wasn't going to be okay for a very long time.

Because losing someone isn't an occasion or an event. It doesn't just happen once. It happens over and over again. I lose Alana every time I pick up her favourite coffee mug; whenever that one song plays on the radio, or when I discover her old t-shirt at the bottom of the laundry pile.

I lose her every time I think of kissing her, holding her or wanting her. I lose her when I turn to tell her about my day, and she isn't there. I get my two hours of sleep a night, and when I wake up and reach for the empty space across the sheets, I begin to lose her all over again.

They say that time will heal, but time won't change the way I feel. For no one knows how many times I have broken down and cried. Theres no doubt, she's so wonderful to think of, but she's so terribly hard to be without.

Grief never ends... but it changes. It's a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith.

It is the price of love.