Grief is not just an emotion—it’s an unraveling, a space where something once lived but is now gone. It carves through you, leaving a hollow ache where love once resided. In the beginning, it feels unbearable, like a wound that will never close. But over time, the raw edges begin to mend. The pain softens, but the imprint remains—a quiet reminder

I walk downstairs and my father is pacing. I’m wearing a tight shirt and leggings and I immediately hide. I don’t like wearing tight clothes around my parents and I isn’t creaky hide because I think they’ll comment on my body. I go upstairs to change and come back down. I think about how I wish he wasn’t pacing. He asks me what I’m up to and I say