It's been ten days since my friend was found dead in his apartment. I can talk about him without crying now, mostly, and remember him with laughter.
(Remember when we all played City of Heroes, and I had to add healing skills so we could keep JD alive through an entire encounter, because he loved to charge into the middle of the fight? And remember his amazing costumes? And how he put so much stuff in the guild vault that it was hard to find anything?)
"What if we could accurately predict if a steamy, passionate and torrid love-affair would fail? And what's more, how it would fail ... Who would get custody of the dog? Which pieces of clothing and how many CD's in your music collection would mysteriously leave with your ex?
Well, we might be tempted to opt for a lesser evil ... like being Canadian or something. But how much fun would that be?" ~JD Sparks
Sometimes it feels as if everyone else has moved on already, as if now we're supposed to be over the shock and sadness and into the quiet haze of decorous grief. But I don't feel decorous, or hazy. I feel like I've swallowed a mouthful of broken glass at a wedding, and I need to smile and talk and go on, even though I'm raw inside.