my friends come.
"I was thinking about you today. Are you ok?"
I shake my head. They open their hearts.
"I will follow you to the mechanics and the car rental place."
"Can I take Pallas this afternoon?"
I have a conversation with a fellow older widow.
"Jesus Kim! You are only 7 months into this!" she reminds me.
And I inhale the support, my cup spills its water.
And i can stand on the bottom again. No need to tread.
And as I replay the scenes of yesterday in my head, objectively, I am still amazed at how little, how very, very little it takes before I don't care to breath.
Grieving fucking sucks.