fourteenI wake up the next morning with a heavy feeling in my stomach. I sense it immediately, even before my mind catches up.
I’ve always hated that feeling—the sickening heaviness in your gut that’s emotional but has a profound effect on your body.
I remember feeling the same way when I woke up after each of my little dogs died. I felt this way after Jeff and I broke up. I felt this way the morning after my mother died. It’s like the night has blurred the acuteness of the grief temporarily, but your body won’t ever let you forget that things are just not right with the world.
It takes me just a few seconds to remember that Dave and I have broken up. As I lie in bed, staring up at a mostly dark room, I keep picturing the rest of my days passing by, one by one, without him.
It’s not a
