Grief Is Weird

I just started this shit last night.  I'm not totally set on the specifics of what I will share here versus what I share on my other platforms,  how often I'll post, or what my end game is, but what I do know is that writing is a form of healing for me and I enjoy sharing my writing with others (even when the subject matter is painful).  Writing is therapeutic for me. It helps me work through the separate but cluttered piles of feelings that are littered throughout my mental space, and I typically feel a sense of relief after putting it all into words. Some people though? Some people fucking hate writing. They would sooner walk through fire than pick up a pen or touch a keyboard, because it doesn't bring them peace or solace, and that's okay.  As cliché as it sounds (remind me at some point to talk about how important it is to rid ourselves of that feeling of being "too cliché" because there actually are still people out there who genuinely have nev...

I forgot that today was the second anniversary of my mom's death until 7:26pm this evening. At least I think it's the second anniversary, since time hasn't moved in a linear fashion since that July 2nd. The day that she died, I put my head on her chest and heard the faint beat of her heart for the last time. The few of us who had gathered in her hospice room to say our final goodbyes said a prayer, and then waited patiently for the staff to clean her body and get it ready to be taken to the mortuary. Did you know that you have to have all of those little details like which mortuary will pick up the body, what you want them to do with the body, and what kind of services you want to hold all figured out by the time your loved one takes their final breath? The hospice center was great while we were there and she was still alive, but as soon as the life is gone from their body, they pretty much want you gone from their building and are very little help as far as guiding your n...