It comes so late at night, the grieving.
I try to exhaust myself, make my eyes so tired by reading, surfing the web, playing games... But it still comes.
I shut my eyes and it is all I see. I hear voices loudly in the night's stillness and I can't relax.
I keep going back in my memories. I keep them on repeat. I hope when I wake up it is different. Everyone is here. No one is gone.
It doesn't change though. Time passes, whether I am an active participant or not.
When there is light out, I find myself in conversations with people I care about, people I enjoy. But I'm not listening. I can't focus on what they are saying. I don't know why this is difficult.
I keep saying the wrong word. Sounds like... But isn't.
I find myself driving and missing my turn. On routes I drive all the time.
My face makes expressions that I don't know about. "What's that face for?" I keep hearing that. I don't think I mean whatever my face is saying. But I can't get it in line.
It is a strange thing. It's a lot of strange things.
It certainly isn't comfortable to be this transparent. I guess my hope is that by acknowledging grief I can someday heal.
I'll think of you everyday, Grandpa. I just can't do otherwise, no matter how I try.