The tears finally came, filling my eyes, brimming over, running down my cheeks. I pushed back up against my bedroom wall and slid down until I had crumpled into a heap, my head between my knees, arms lying limp at my sides.
When I was little, I would lay in bed holding my sheet up, filling it with air, and then letting it fall around me, like a dusting of snow. This is the closest way I can describe how the grief found me. It fell down around me, all at once, encompassing. I cried for the sudden change in the present; I cried for the smoldering remains of the past. I cried because I was equally as excited as I was terrified. I cried because life is not fair and because it is strangely wonderful. I cried because I felt everything at once.