Dear X,

Grief can have this strange effect of making things less complicated. My mind moves slowly and my movements are deliberate. It makes me feel out of rhythm with a world that is full of fear and panic right now. I find it oddly enjoyable to move at my own pace—it’s like having my own music and my own separate dance floor.

My feelings are uncomplicated. I miss you. I ache. I cry sometimes. I wear a warm blanket of melancholy.

Today I asked a friend to call me “flower” because I wanted to feel for one split second like I was her daughter. I don’t care to know why; I just went along with what my soul wanted and I was lucky enough to have someone who met my want without a single question.

I can feel that I have a lot of love to give but that I want to offer it in uncomplicated ways: gazes, hugs, simple words of affection. If I could I would take a bunch of crayons and draw 100 pictures of daisies and hand them out to people. That is the way I want to love right now. Like a child. A well-loved child.

The gift of a broken heart is how it can leave you defenseless and soft and raw. It can simplify your needs and quiet your mind. I don’t know if it will make sense to you but it is clearing me out and leaving only the bare essentials.

I’m not sure why I’m sharing this with you. Maybe I want you to know that even the sadness and pain has been a gift. I hope it has been for you as well.

Love,

J.

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