That and fear of not seeing your children grow older. Or not teaching them the one thing they needed to know before you leave them on their own. That and not having laughed enough, loved as much as you could have, kissed as long and hard as you wanted to…
Or because for the first half of your life your brain spent the vast majority of the time trying to hide your trauma memories from you and now they are attacking you, and you can’t remember them clearly anyway.
Or because you grieve for not having a loving relationship with your parents or you felt nothing but rejection from your own mother (or father).
Or because people assumed that since you were skinny or had a pointy nose, that you wouldn’t love them and be the best friend they ever had.
Or they assumed you weren’t lonely and sad. Or they assumed you had all the support, love and friendship you needed because the outside of you.
Or they talked down to you and always, ALWAYS mentioned how small you are no matter what — they made themselves feel good by putting their forearm on your head. And this hurt, both your head and your sense of self worth.
Outsides can be a powerful metaphor for grief. You did nothing wrong writing this piece.