Each day, when I wake up, there’s a temporary fog before my head clears.
And then I open my eyes.
The room is bright, the linens are white, there’s much less furniture than there should be.
And then I remember.
I turn my head to look beside me, knowing what I won’t see.
I close my eyes, hating this life, wondering how I’ll get through this day, and wishing I was still asleep, where grief does not live.
Hugs…