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cemetery in the dark to leave their bouquet of white roses.
After lingering in silence, Giana had driven them to the park.
Sometimes they went for a walk after. Sometimes for
breakfast. Sometimes to the park. Sometimes they just went
back home.
They’d been visiting Heather’s grave for nearly a year. After
taking a grief class together, it was suggested that the visits
could be cathartic, not just sad. That changing the outlook on
going and making it an occasion of joy and peace could
change everything.
The still beauty of the morning was good for contemplation.
They’d both found a new sense of peace in their visits
together.
“You know, someone else died in that accident,” Giana
whispered, but thinly, as if she wasn’t even really aware she
was saying anything out loud. “I lost myself. My sister died,
and I came out barely half alive and I lived that way until I
met, rather forcefully, the love of my life.”
Coralyn was surprised. They’d been dating for a year, but
Giana rarely voiced things like that. She’d told her that she
loved her six months ago, and Coralyn had caved long before
that, but she wasn’t one to do cheesy sayings. Love of my life
certainly didn’t seem to be in her vocabulary.
Then again, things had changed. A lot of things. Through
the grief classes, they’d both learned to move forward. They’d
met new friends, people going through the same kinds of
losses as they were. They’d both learned that a thick skin only
got you so far, and usually that wasn’t far at all. They’d
learned how to cry together, because that was as important as
loving and laughing together.
