CHAPTER 14
I know there’s little to be proud of when it comes to depression. Nothing honorable about sleeping twenty-three hours out of every day. But there is a small dignity in walking through grief and not succumbing fully to darkness and despair.
I think maybe one of the reasons I handled Daddy’s death without crashing completely was because Chris was so supportive. Sure, he was intimidated. Sure, he felt guilty. Who wouldn’t? You marry your high-school sweetheart, and a week later she’s so broken-hearted she can’t shuffle to the bathroom without crying. But looking back and knowing what I know now about depression, that’s a good thing. If I cry, that means I can still feel something. Crying means I have a channel for my sadness.
Weeping may remain for the night, but rejoicing comes
