At 3:17 A.M., Police Told Me My Husband Was Dead—But He Was Sleeping Beside Me
Terrible joke.
Also perfect.
Because fear had become something we could joke about without diminishing what happened.
That is what healing feels like sometimes.
Not forgetting the nightmare.
Being able to wake from it fully.
Julian wrote me one final letter near the end of his sentence.
I did not read it for months.