One of the hardest things is realizing how alone in this I am. For so many weeks we were always together and then, when she was gone, I felt more alone and empty than I could have imagined. Now, I am alone in a different way; grieving still – so deeply – even though it might appear to others as though I am feeling better. I take care of my older daughter, I shop for food and cook, I clean the apartment, I try to write, but I miss her and miss her and miss her. And I feel more alone in missing her because it doesn’t seem right to talk only of her anymore. I feel I am supposed to be starting to heal and so I act as though I am, outwardly, while inside the aloneness grows and grows and grows.

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