Acceptance.
The last stage of grief.
That's what they say, right? Like it's some finish line you eventually stumble across. Like the moment you reach it, you're cured. Like grief has an expiration date.
But nobody tells you how impossible it feels when the person you're trying to accept as gone still lives in every corner of your chest.
How the hell do you accept something like this?
Sitting there, watching Dominic force himself to stand at that pulpit. I felt my chest tearing apart with every word that left Dominic's mouth.
His hands shook on the pulpit, his voice cracked more than once, but he kept going. He stood there strong for everyone, for the Everharts.
And God, it hurt to watch him like that.
Because I knew what that weight felt like. I'd lived it once already…..standing at my dad's funeral.
