Goodbye, Mico.

Grief is just so much. I don’t know how to do anything about it. I can’t speak, I can’t cry enough. I can’t hurt enough.

Grief, love, pain — they all ought to be synonyms.

How do you deal with death and loss anyway? How do you deal with the completely irrational grief that shrouds you after that, despite knowing a hundred, thousand, times over, that the death was for the best, and unavoidable? and when you’re generally very stoic when it comes to illness and death?

It circumvents rationality, and even giving up on rationality and completely embracing it, I still don’t know how to deal with it.

I lost my girl. We lost our baby. There is no ‘I’ in this. But it’s somehow feels so isolating and lonely, a singular pain that feels it cannot be shared, no one else can ever know what it feels like. Which is completely untrue.

There is relief in knowing how peacefully she went. In seeing, and knowing, how my husband held her close to his chest as she gently went off to sleep: her little tongue making a quirky appearance, as though reaching out to taste something one last time. She didn’t look dead. But soon as life left her, she didn’t look… like her either.

I didn’t know we could love so much. There are no words.