The thing about depression is that I think of it as synonymous with sadness. But then, when real grief comes, I realize depression is a numbness. Sorrow hurts. It hurts so bad it feels like a shattering, a shredding. Just a broken, open lost feeling. Shapeless.
My center is scattered to winds that chill then warm and distract with beauty for a moment. Then, when the air shifts away and the world is less autumn-beautiful, the pain is worse by comparison.
Tiny, stabbing grievings so sudden I can't brace myself for them.
I'll fall apart if I try to eulogize Holly or speak of her. When my mourning settles I can and will paint the beautiful picture of her she deserves.