Finding out that someone you shared the first 25 years of your life with them in it, someone who was strangely safe in rooms full of evil has passed is hard.
I can’t go to the memorial. I’d not be welcome. I broke the rules. I stopped cycles. I left the framework of untruths and blind eyes.
The truth is he turned a blind eye. I guess safe is relative. I grieve none the less.
I wish I understood more about why with even blind eyes and untruths I grieve.
Stories are sad like this sometimes. I guess that has to be ok for today.
Next Best Thing Next 