Big Bang.

Big Bang.
Lee.

Grief has a start point. Like the Big Bang without the creation, instead it implodes, consuming what once was a face, a voice, a story, a song, red-ringed dates on a calendar, laughter, photographs in a drawer, memes on a phone, tender words, hateful curses, dreams, so many dreams, a man, woman, child; father, mother, daughter, sister, brother, the list goes on and on. In their stead, a homogeneous mass of nothing takes their place. An alien in the home, laying eggs of nothing in the heart once full, full of what once was but can never be again. Life will never be the same once you’ve met and shared time with grief, because grief is a jealous friend: a stalker without the need to hide in the shadows, because those who know grief become that shadow. Everywhere they go, it goes.
Grief has a start point, but an end…I couldn’t tell you my friend, as my life is in that shade too.