These shots in the back.
Grief sneak attacks. Suddenly something or someone reminds you.
So you cry, you weep, you gnash teeth, you wring hands. You pull out your pad and pen and you write it out of you, for that moment, for that blink of an eye.
But it will come again. It will attack.
You will hurt and cry and rage. You will tell yourself how unfair it all is, and then you will close the notebook, cap the pen and send an email or respond to a meeting notice.
And the extraordinary moments when the pain of the loss of the little one is so purely felt–again–pass, and it all becomes workaday and mundane.
After thinking about it, you realize: in some small way, you welcome the sucker punch, because you’re reminded of just how much you love him.
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