Those moments, breath by self-destructive breath, have found some sense of sensibility shaken back into a monotonous routine. Thriving would be a word ill used, but alive.. that would suit the devastation that has come and gone. Leaving behind it a hinted glimmer of something warm upon the horizon..
To be plain, and brief, it has been a little over a month since the passing of my Opa; my Grand Father. I am still not myself, and don’t foresee that I will be in the near future. I’ve made peace with the anger, and for the most part have come back from the blackness with which I found comfort.
As to writing.. it may still be a bit before I return.
A close soul has their suspicions, and has stated thus: “When you do finally decide to write again.. I have a feeling it’s going to shatter your Silent facade”.
If only you could see the smile that was given for those words. Perhaps it IS time to break beyond Ecnelis. Wouldn’t that be something to see?