Time passes…

No matter how much time passes, it doesn’t get any easier. The time between hurting gets bigger, but the hurt is still there, waiting to bubble to the surface. …not always for warned of the triggers, getting through most anniversaries without too much life interruption. But this particular time of year is just hard. As much as I’ve tried to make new traditions… change my associations with this time of the year… I just can’t seem to … stop… can’t stop that train from charging through.


From a time when the hurt was a little more fresh… raw…

Why *is* death such a hard thing to talk about?




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