Every grief becomes its own creature,
a familiar stranger,
individual as a fingerprint,
independent as it comes and goes.
It cries in the morning
like a baby
and aches and groans at night
like an old wound.
It wanders in unexpected
with the face you know,
but sometimes it just sits
unseen and
you sit with it,
sharing the memories of what was
and the future things that will not
be.
It's nothing to fear.
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