This grief is much like a bear-hunt – “can’t go over it, can’t go under it, must go through it!” So I bushwhack and squelch and climb and dig.  And every day there are fewer moments of despair and more moments of joy.  Or at least contentment.  Like sharing a milkshake with this freckled friend, talking about our plans for summer (which he insists include huckleberry picking and lots of time on rivers).

SMD

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