In time, they say, in time. They say this as I’m sobbing and the clock is going around and around and I’m certain I won’t stop until it does. For the first time ever, I wish it would.
With the holidays in plain view, many grievers are gearing up for the absolute worst time of their year—cold months where seemingly everyone around them is in warm, good cheer, as perhaps they themselves used to be during this season, yet they can no longer relate. Feeling quite opposite of cheery, they feel the despair of feeling somehow misplaced. Misunderstood. Missing.