Today's OneWord: Grief

The priests and deacons and parishioners all tried to tell me what my grief was supposed to feel like. But I shut their words out like I would the cold, pulling down the fragile, frosty glass of my cerebral window and enjoying how much softer the wind seemed to roar against the pane. For hours on end, I would sit in my easy chair, reading the newspaper, cutting out words from the headlines that reminded me of her. Perhaps that was not what my fellow churchgoers thought of when they talked about sorrow or mourning, but for me, it felt like a proper idiosyncrasy, a personal and comfortable way to express myself without falling apart at the seams.