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Showing posts from March, 2026

From Diary to Becoming

​ I am coming up on a year of weekly posts chronicling the ups and downs of grief. I began writing in my second year because I needed somewhere to put it down. By then, most everyone had moved on. People had stopped saying her name. Stopped bringing her up.  And I was still living in the echo. I needed a place where her name was still spoken. Where the weight of that second year could exist without making anyone uncomfortable. The first year I had a therapist. The second year this blog was therapy of what was left of me.  Now, what I have left are memories. Pictures. A hairbrush with a few strands still caught in it. Clothes still folded, waiting to become memory blankets. Things I can still hold. Proof that it was real.  This blog has been my container. And lately, I can feel something shifting — not away from grief, but within it. What began as diary entries from the trenches is becoming something else. When foundations are blown apart, it takes years ju...

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