Grief Hits Like a Brick: April 27, 1975…by Robert M. Katzman
Grief Hits Like a Brick: April 27, 1975 by Robert M. Katzman © April 27, 2018
Never knew when it would hit, how hard it would hit, or where.
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Didn’t think it would be in my kitchen in Wisconsin on a sunny Friday morning, on the 43rd anniversary of when I met a beautiful young love I’ll never see again.
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It is one thing to type that.
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It is another thing to experience the totality of that slammed door all at once on the first anniversary of that endlessly shared day with her, without her.
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Oh, she’s gone.
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Forever.
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And the pain of it unexpectedly just smashed into me with a suddenness that made me think I was going to break into pieces, very wet pieces. Tears poured through my fingers where I was holding my face, dripping on my greying beard, down my neck soaking my black T-shirt. And they kept flowing because there was no way to turn them off. Fifty weeks after Joy’s funeral, I’d figured whatever I was going to feel, I’d already felt.
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Wrong.