They tell you the pain fades over time.
They tell you your heart will never be the same.
They don’t tell you that you’ll scroll through your phone’s call log with a sinking heart, frantically searching for the last time you called her. That it will be too long ago.
They tell you that they are there for you. That their thoughts and prayers are with you.
They don’t tell you how your bones and joints and intestines ache so much you take Advil on a regular basis. And are scared that one day the Advil won’t be enough.
They don’t tell you that being around your own family will be both the hardest and most important thing you can do.
They don’t tell you that your previous anxieties and worries will be eliminated when you find out what real pain is.
They don’t tell you how your heart opens and your compassion triples and you live more vividly and deeply.
They tell you she was too bright, too beautiful, and too gentle for this world.
They don’t tell you what to do with your intense anger, deep sadness, and overwhelming regret.
They tell you that you are in their prayers.
They don’t tell you that nighttime is the worst.
They don’t tell you that you’ll be able to laugh and joke much sooner than you expected. That it will feel too soon.
They tell you that she’s with you.
They don’t tell you where.
They don’t tell you that you will deeply love everyone who loved her.
They tell you that her light left a huge impact on everyone it touched.
And you agree.