Angel

I am warmed by your fortitude.

I know this past week has been difficult for you, a person of solitude and insularity, to deal with the noisy presence of these others. These others who are ragged from grief, and still crumbling, crumbling every day from their letting go of their father.

I know death is something you cannot even see sideways. You shut your eyes to it. I can barely look it in the face. But you, you turn your back. I know that deep inside, you are as terrified of it as I am. And I understand.

I understand how difficult it is for you to deal with it, which is why those who don't know you may think you don't care. But I know that you do. And that you feel bad for those grieving. But you don't know how to say it, without delving into the depth of death itself. And the prospect is too frightening for your heart.

I know.

I hope you know how much and how deeply I know.

And that it has made me love you more, watching you courageously put up a brave face and try to cope with things. For unlike others, your methods of coping are limited, and I sense you already reached your last option on Day 2. But yet you have persevered.

I also wonder, and I think I dare say I almost sense that all this is starting to affect you somehow. Perhaps it is a blessing in disguise for you.