The Wild Edge of Sorrow

This weekend has been brutal. I don’t say that because I’m looking for sympathy or replies, but because I want to be honest about this journey.

I try to be aware when a wave of grief is coming, but sometimes it just shows up like an ambush.

A mantra I’ve had for a very long time is “the only way out is through.” Maybe that’s helping me now, because I don’t fight the grief when it comes. I just let myself feel it.

My therapist has encouraged me to keep some of the rituals that existed before July 2, so I’m sitting at Barnes & Noble right now—something Wolf and I did almost every week.

We’d always go straight to Starbucks first for his Caramel Ribbon Crunch Frappuccino and pizza pretzel. I’d sit at our usual table and wait for his order while he took off to find a couple books, usually about anime or philosophy.

I’m sitting at that same table now, and it’s really hard to be here without him. Everything is familiar except the person who is supposed to be here with me.

I’ll go to the cemetery afterward, though, and keep one more part of the tradition alive: complaining to him about how unhealthy his order was.