Is this what grief looks like?
Sitting in the sunlight in my favorite chair in my new house, in the city I’ve dreamed of living in for a decade and a half.
Crying.
I cry all the time now.
I didn’t cry much when I found out my husband was having an affair. I raged. I left my body for weeks. I was in shock, numb, erratic, resolute, confused, in deep pain. But I did not cry much until now.
Now that I’m living the life I failed at creating with him. The one that was never his. That he wasn’t capable of. That he never really wanted.
Now that I’m happy. Now that I’m free.