A Place to Write

 Grief is such a weird thing. Why does a death have to hurt even 16 years after it happened? Why does it hurt at all if it's such a part of life? And when it does hurt it just feels silly. I can't shut my life down every time it hits. Life doesn't work like that. It never has.  Life has continued in the past 16 years. It's completely different now. It's a life she never experienced. It's a life she wasn't a part of (to no fault of her own!) So why does it still hurt? And when it does hurt why does it hit like a ton of bricks? Why can't I stop the tears from coming?  How are you supposed to act when someone is grieving? I don't know, and that's why I hide it from my husband and kids. Because they can't understand. They never knew her. They don't know this grief. I don't want any pity.  So I write because writing works. It helps to vent, even though no one will read it. I did dream of her last night. It was Michelle Day, the annual day