Grief

The transfer bus to our hotel has taken us right past the apartment where Mum and Dad stayed more than 50 times. I am overcome by what I think is sadness and it’s coming out of my eyes.
But I soon realise that it is not sadness at all. It is grief. And grief is not sadness; grief is love unfinished.
I don’t want to experience sadness. But I want grief to cover me sometimes because grief reminds me that I loved, and was loved, and still love. I don’t want to stop that. I won’t resist it.
Love unfinished.