Wednesdays. I need to remember Wednesdays .
She died on Wednesday.
And the number 24.
She died on the 24th.
And her last words to me.
I’m afraid of remembering.
I’m afraid of forgetting.
I’m afraid.
Will this grief always be so relentless?
If it does ease, even the slightest bit, I worry that I’ll feel like I’m betraying her somehow.
That I’m forgetting.
That she will be more gone, more dead, if I forget to remember.
This is one of the many conundrums of grief.
It hurts to remember, it hurts to forget.
by 