Grief hits at the most random moment. A song, a smell, a phrase overheard in conversation, each
reduce her to a mess of tears and sobbing and snot. She hears his voice, calm, in her head, “It is what it is. Enough now. No more tears.” But the tears will not stop, not yet. She feels the pain of his absence, as real as any wound, raw and red. The tears are her only salve.
In memory of my friend Alan.