Stumbled across this blog this morning. I could relate so well to the way Robin, Camila’s Mom, described being broken by grief after the loss of her daughter.
During my walk with my dog today, we came upon someone else who was walking a dog, as we often do. I made polite conversation as we rounded the corner, but when the young man said, “We do what we can,” it took me a moment to realize he was making reference to his dog. “It’s permanent,” he said, as I noticed the brace on the back leg.
“He’s broken,” he went on to say.
I was struck by his diction. Such a simple explanation, such a common term. Broken.
Maybe that’s the best way to describe me in the months immediately following Camila’s death. I came to understand that being in a state of mourning is akin to losing your fine motor skills. You still have the muscle but your body doesn’t always obey the subtle commands. And the change is in the details.
I remember the first thing that deteriorated was my handwriting. I simply could not hold…
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