[All grief is one: like touching the ocean at any of the imaginary lines we’ve drawn, it’s all one body of water.]
[When my partner senses that I’m holding back grief and invites me with a simple gesture like a hand on the shoulder, it’s hard to meet them there but I try to anyway, because to say “no worries, everything’s fine” would be to negate their good instincts for how I’m feeling.]
[I appreciate things that make me cry because they give me the chance to shed a few more of the tears repressed during childhood, when I had learned that doing so was dangerous.]