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What was the point anyway? The older I got, the more people would vanish.
I didn’t want to die.
Not really.
What I wanted was to disappear. To blink out of existence, to be forgotten by everyone who ever knew me. I didn’t want to be here anymore, to have to think, to have to feel.
Because grief is a complicated, ugly, messy thing.
And it makes you do complicated, ugly, messy things.
It didn’t seem like the right moment.
Then again, when would there ever be a right moment to invite someone to grieve, to mourn?
There was no right moment for any of it.
I could hear the sadness in his voice, the melancholy, as if he were giving a warning rather than a piece of advice.
Even though I was surrounded by my family, I realized I’d never felt more alone.