An Essayby Charley Burlock
It took less than three seconds and twelve feet of vertical air to shatter my world. Grief moved in shortly after. Grief is a rude houseguest. She stays up late. She leaves messes. She is lazy. Grief brings friends over without asking. Women who Remember-Me-When-I-Was-This-Tall and leave bouquets of white flowers and empty cans of seltzer water with warm sticky lip gloss smearing the rims. Others just leave pitying glances and abandoned casseroles baked with a nauseating medley of guilt and sorrow, and just a pinch of relief. Relief that this was not their doorstep. Relief that this was not their son.