Twenty years ago I was standing besides the grave that Donna had just been lowered into as people came by to throw dirt & pay the last of respects, when Anni, Mike’s mother, put her hand on my shoulder & said, “It gets easier”…

In twenty years I don’t know if much of anything has gotten easier, but that’s not anyone’s fault, and Anni still wasn’t wrong in her assurance. My trail of tears sure hasn’t stopped, but I am still here, and it is because I never forget something honest and heartfelt that’s said or given to me, like she did as I stood there over Donna’s coffin, my life in absolute ruin.

She meant well, and it did help, if even only today, exactly twenty years later to the day. Thank you Anni, and Mike, and Glen,… you were(are still) some of my sturdiest of crutches, and prove that only(mere) words can sometimes ground me, and remind me that what is, is what is, and tomorrow is just something I have to make it to no matter how crestfallen or despondent I may be on the inside.

We make it to tomorrow, until we can’t. When I can’t, it won’t matter if you don’t forgive me. Because what is, will be what is for you, and you’ll take that into tomorrow until…

The funeral is over, and the grave covered. For twenty years. ~