Ward's shoes remain on the back stairs leading up to his bedroom. His last work schedule hangs on a bulletin board in the hall. A ratty sweatshirt jacket hangs on a coat rack in the kitchen.
I can not let go, maybe one day, but I don't know how or even why? I think Mothers just hang on, that is what we do.
Tomorrow it will be two years since Ward died. My feet hit the floor each morning thinking of him, and I celebrate his precious life with us.
Grief has become a part of my life, not my best friend, maybe just an acquaintance.
The shoes will stay on the stairs.
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Great, great post, Bonnie. Keep writing, keep celebrating. How's your book coming? You can do it. We're all here to support you.
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