I never meant to talk about this directly, but the poem I wrote yesterday had people asking me if I’m OK, so I feel like I need to explain it better. My dad is terminally ill, and probably has a year to live. I’m not really OK right now—that “convulsing” heart is mine. Most days I’m able to push the worry and sadness aside and get through the day. Then, like the day I wrote that poem, the pain hits hard. I’m so grateful to my husband, family and friends, whom have helped me get those all-consuming moments.
I’m very grateful, too, for all your kind words and support. Thank you.
1 day ago