And now

And now, I have climbed out of my bed cave. I have eaten breakfast (albeit in the afternoon), taken my medication, showered, washed my hair, tweezed my eyebrows. I have opened the window, and there are fresh sheets to sleep in when I fall into bed again. Tonight we will eat roasted chicken and vegetables and drink wine, and we will talk about the week to come, and not the week that has been. Life resumes. I will be sad for a while yet - and angry at La Narcisse - but the truth is - this sadness and anger have been with me for a long time. They are not new. This death is simply the continuation of an old repeating loss. I have survived it for all this time, I can survive it some more. 

And now, I have a family who love me, and a home that is safe, and friends that seek me out because I matter to them. That is the life I have built for myself, on a foundation of love and respect. That is my story, the story written by me, not for me. This is where my consolation lies, not out there in a place where my questions will never be fully answered, and where any of the answers will only lead to more, aching questions. In our darkest times, the people who truly care for us do not push us away, they draw us nearer to them. They hold us tight so that we know how utterly precious we are to them. And now, I find myself being held close by the people who love me.