Unresolved grief: You're Not the Only One

it’s 2 AM, and the workshop is cold, and the house feels even colder. …

because I still pay for someone's phone plan, like, even though they're not here anymore and I text it every day, like about my classes and the stupid drama at my internship, and it's just so much… …

It’s been ingrained since I was barely out of my teens, that whole "mission first" mentality. …

like still a fucking museum of his old soccer trophies and his dirty laundry from when he was 16 or something—it's been like that for YEARS. …

Every year, same day, same time more or less, I buy a baby blanket. …

Every single night, like CLOCKWORK, I watch them lay out the slippers. …

i still pay for someone's phone bill. …

I retired last year, just turned 60, after forty-some years swinging a hammer, building houses, putting roofs over heads. …

I keep finding reasons not to go home, even though Mom calls at 7:00 PM every Tuesday, because the sight of his childhood room—still smelling like old socks and the three basketball trophies on the… …

I spend most days in my workshop now, building birdhouses, sometimes twelve hours a day if I can manage it. …

I’m a grad student, so it's always "oh I have so much studying" or "research paper due. …

The smell of sawdust is thick, always is. …

I keep a sweater in my desk drawer at work. …

well, because of my brother’s old room. …

He’s building birdhouses. …

Now he just… builds birdhouses. …

i know this is probably really messed up but i still pay for my mom's cell phone. …

I know this sounds completely messed up, but I still pay for my mother’s cell phone. …

It's my brother’s room, I think—it’s still exactly how he left it when he went to college, like a time capsule of old trophies and probably still some dirty laundry. …

And I still pay for the phone plan. …