Another hard day

Today is the one-month (in the sense of, same day of the month, so 31 days later given how July works) anniversary of my dad's death.

I know the date of his death ALL TOO WELL now because I have had to share it with every place I have had to do paperwork, either my own or assisting my mom.

I think I'm gonna be kind of quiet today. If I can get into research work after class it will probably help me.


Edited to add: I needed to get more out after class so I wrote this. It might not be very good but I don't care at this point.

Unwanted garment

Grief is like a garment of variable size.

At times, it is a heavy wool cloak, enveloping, engulfing, it weighs you down. 

At others, it is that t-shirt with the annoying tag you cannot rip out and that only gets worse if you cut it

It is never light and comfortable

It is usually too hot and saps your energy

It is a flattering color on no one. 

It cannot be removed, cannot be dropped by the side of the road.

Laundering does not help it, nor does washing it in tears.

It will not rip; you cannot remove it; it is as if it is the enchanted

Shoes from that fairy tale; it has molded to your body.