Grief doesn’t come gently for me. It feels like stepping into darkness and missing a stair that was always there before. My grandmother, Catherine, wasn’t just family — she was the place I landed when the world felt unsteady. With her, I never had to earn love. I just existed, and that was enough. Standing beside her casket last week, I felt like I was breathing with only half my lungs. The funeral home lights were soft, almost flattering. Her silver hair was styled just the way she liked it, and her pearl necklace rested against her collarbone. She looked...
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