How I Learned to Befriend My Grief
Trying to find her good side
“What are you doing here?” I hiss. “I told you not to show up tonight!”
“Awww but I wanna be here. It’s not fair. You don’t let me come to any fun events.”
“I see you’re going to be whiny tonight.”
“Can I stay for a bit? They’re playing ‘Take It Easy’ by the Eagles. That song reminds you of her. Pretty please. With a cherry on top. I promise I’ll be good.”
“FINE! You can stay. You’re going to do what you want anyway. BUT only for a little. And you can’t let anyone see you. People don’t like when you show up. Especially in public. It makes them uncomfortable.” I spit out in frustration. I despise it when she pouts.
“Thank you! No one will notice.”
That’s my friend, Grief. She’s rather temperamental.
I’ve only known her for eight months, so we’re still getting used to one another.
Other times, though, I don’t mind her tagging along. Just the other day, she joined me while I went through old pictures. She perched right next to me as I flipped through the yellow-stained photo albums.
“Remember this one,” she giggles, hugging her knees. “You and your mom drove across the country. You did the Pink Jeep tour in…
