Everyone keeps telling me it gets better with time. It\'s been four months and, if anything, some days feel harder than the weeks right after she died. Right after, there was a kind of shock that cushioned things — people around, things to organise, the motion of grief. Now everyone has gone back to their lives. And I\'m left in a quieter version of the loss that somehow feels more enormous.
I still reach for my phone to call her when something happens — something funny, something difficult, something I want to share. That reflex hasn\'t gone anywhere. And every time it happens I have to grieve her again in that moment. It\'s like a small funeral, over and over.
I\'m not posting this because I expect answers. Grief doesn\'t really have answers. I\'m posting it because I need people who understand that four months is not long enough to be "over it", and that the world\'s impatience with grief is its own kind of cruelty. If you are grieving too — I see you. We don\'t have to be okay yet.