Losing a husband or a wife due to death is like paralysis (I can only assume). You know you want the other leg to move but it can’t. Your brain tells you how you have to function but the body cannot be persuaded. One half gets stuck somewhere else, with knees that are jello, with thoughts that are dark and defeated and lost, with organs that function but couldn’t quite work the same way. It will require medicine, therapy, time, and only God knows what else to move again. Full weight, heart-healed, thoughts-sorted, and soul-willing. And still, though time passes, the left will never be like how they were once found by that one person who bothered to look. And they will still wish the other never left ahead.

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