It can be hard to identify the line where grieving ends, and your personality begins. Do I have a quick temper because of all I’ve been through, or because I naturally have a short fuse? The people who care about me tend to err on the side of caution: everything
To reiterate an exhausted and lackluster explanation, 5 years ago (January 29th), my dad died. The anniversary slumbers in the back of my consciousness, ready at any moment to sabotage a perfectly normal conversation. “Hey Caitlin, what movie should I watch?” “Kill Bill” “How’d you decide so quickly?” “It was the last movie I watched
“I was so sorry to hear that your father died,” was probably one of the worst lines you could have said to me in 2010. I hated nothing more than other people’s pain in the months after my father passed. At best, it was an unpleasant reminder of what I was trying to put in
I have two really bad months in the year. January marks the anniversary of the decline of my father’s treatment for colon cancer, and his consequent death. There are a couple of days in January when grieving for my father makes it hard to get out of bed, because the sheer memory of grief weighs me down.
My sister just finished her freshman year of high school. Like plenty of teenage girls, she has taken an interest in her male peers. To my great concern, an exorbitant number of boys have taken an interest in her too. It’s scary watching your little sibling come of age. It’s scarier watching people close to