The Picture

Friday Fiction is back—I think. Maybe. I have a rare moment to myself as I type this, so I am trying to get some blogs in the bag before I drop off again. Like I said on Monday, I miss the blog. Here is a short piece I wrote about grief. Thankfully, most of this is fictional. I hope you like it.

I saw a picture of her again. I missed her. She meant everything to me. It wasn’t fair that she wasn’t here anymore. I missed. I considered smashing the frame on the floor. I didn’t. That’s not the way she raised me. It was time for a change. That change started today.

Grief is a strange feeling. It turns out that the five stages of grief are a myth. I heard that on a podcast, so it must be true.

I was at some stage, anyway. I was trying desperately to figure out what was happening in my head. It was a quiet activity. If anyone asked me how I felt, it took every fibre of my being not to say, “Aagh!”

It just sucks that she isn’t around anymore. I only considered smashing the frame on the floor. I didn’t do it this time. That would be unfair to her. And to me.

That’s enough fiction for one Friday. Thank you for reading, and thank you for your time.