April

“There was only one Mama, and the world has lost her, but it keeps turning. But for me, I live in that void where her love and her voice and her kindness used to be. And in so many ways, even moving forward, I’m standing still. I am suddenly aware of everyone’s compassion, this collective kindness for which I was unprepared. It penetrates the wall I use to insulate my grief and hide the lingering pain. I hate that these tears keep assaulting me when I least expect them. That sadness ambushes me. That the desolation Mama’s absence creates inside of me is inescapable, even here at Thanksgiving dinner in front of Rhyson’s family before we’ve even served dessert. And I hate this awkward quiet while they all try to figure out if it’s okay to move on or if they wait for me to get it together. Only this time I can’t. I’m trapped in this moment while I reach for my composure in vain. Breathing in and deeply usually helps, but I’m too far gone. My heart is too raw today. A sob erupts into the silence. I’m horrified that my body is betraying me this way. That my emotions are this undisciplined, wet spill over my cheeks. I squeeze the linen napkin in my lap until I’m sure I’ll draw blood from it, but the tears won’t stop. The pain doesn’t stop. I leak it. I lose it. I cannot stop it. I cover my face with”
― Kennedy Ryan, My Soul to Keep