I have never been cured of my terminal grief.
Each time that I believe that there is any chance, life kicks me in the teeth.
I will never get over the loss of my father.
I will never get over the loss of my sister, Faith.
And now I add that I will never get over the loss of my fake family.
I’ve been fooled and betrayed, the pain cuts through my soul. I should have know better, my father warned me and I failed to listen.
My failures add up so high that the sun is no longer visible from where I sit.
My two sweet dogs keep me together when I drop to my knees.
Meanwhile, my estranged husband works on my emotions day and night, never allowing me any time to heal.
Terminal grief does not kill, it is not lethal.
It simply leaves you hollow and wondering for the rest of your days.