The First Laugh That Felt Like Betrayal

friend made a joke at lunch and i laughed before i remembered i am supposed to be broken. then felt sick. then felt angry at myself for feeling sick. healing is not a mood you maintain. it's permission to have five minutes where the loss isn't the loudest sound in the room. i'm learning slowly. i found a voicemail i forgot to delete and listened twice before erasing it. the silence after was not relief exactly. more like making room. grief counselors call that progress. i call it Tuesday. the mail arrived with an advertisement for a vacation neither of us will take. the grocery store played a song we used to mock together and i had to leave the aisle. people talk about closure like it is a door you walk through once. today it was a revolving door. i sat in the car until my breathing matched the windshield wipers. home looked the same and that still surprises me every time.