Grief is a Fickle Pickle
This is my bestie. Bestie of 27 years. He is always there for me, as I am for him. That white box is a birthday cake. He came down from another county to go to the fair with me and celebrate my birthday. Since my mom died, God bless him, he has listened to all my tears and sobbing and just let me cry on his shoulder. I keep thinking I am over the grief, but it comes at me like a bulldozer and I try to hide, which we all know does not work. Best friends are one of the most important things about grief. You need your BFF to be there at 2 AM, at 3pm, whatever day, whatever time. He just listens and I know he is thinking about his own mother who is older and not doing well. I keep coming back to the Crowder song when he talks about the dash on your tombstone. He sings how that dash represents the years you have. It is a small window of your life. You may be in the depth of crap right now in life, but it is a small part of your life. I cannot help but think every day...