My name is Evee. Not Evie or Eve, and in fact I dislike both of those names quite strongly.
What alarmed me most was the vacantness in her eyes as if being present was too much to bear.
I thought I knew grief but this was different.
But mum was right. Sooner or later, I have to find my way back to that gentle place. It’s scary and it’s vulnerable and it can die a billion times between each victory…
I think a part of me is afraid to really dive into those words that have become a regular line in my narrative. I am afraid to miss my mum, because what if I miss her wrong? What if I remember something wrong? What if I drown?