I get this: "The fresh wounds do not heal. New wounds are formed around them. Like bedsores all over your body, there's nowhere you can turn to for even a minute of solace." How did our kids become so cruel?
Your description of those whimsical conversations alone—and the loss of that— are heartbreaking. I will keep your words close, a profound reminder of why it is essential to fight on.
I have just come across your Substack. Thank you for putting it so articulately. The 'bedsores' make it so very tiring. I feel a little less tired today to see it acknowledged so beautifully.
This piece captures the experience. Thank you for sharing your current way to make some sense of it. I will continue to hope that one day the relationship will return in a form similar to the one you fondly remember.
I get this: "The fresh wounds do not heal. New wounds are formed around them. Like bedsores all over your body, there's nowhere you can turn to for even a minute of solace." How did our kids become so cruel?
Your description of those whimsical conversations alone—and the loss of that— are heartbreaking. I will keep your words close, a profound reminder of why it is essential to fight on.
I have just come across your Substack. Thank you for putting it so articulately. The 'bedsores' make it so very tiring. I feel a little less tired today to see it acknowledged so beautifully.
This piece captures the experience. Thank you for sharing your current way to make some sense of it. I will continue to hope that one day the relationship will return in a form similar to the one you fondly remember.
Your writing is beautiful and devastating, ML. Because you are my friend, I wish it was just powerful poetry, and not testimony.
💔