Fifty-One Hours
I was awake at 9:52 on the fourth of March and I was watching something on a tablet and my husband had gone down to move the car.
I was probably annoyed about the parking.
Part Four: The Eleven Months
I grieved for eleven months and I grieved the wrong thing, and nobody ever explains what that costs, because almost nobody has to do it.
Here is what I mean.
For eleven months I was the mother of a stillborn son.
That is a specific thing with a specific shape.
It has its own literature and its own groups and its own vocabulary.