The missing brick
When you lose someone, it's like a brick torn from a wall. The structure still stands — but there's a hole where something solid used to be. You feel the wind through it. The cold. The emptiness.
People tell you the wall will hold. And maybe it will. But that missing brick? You'll always know it's gone.
This section exists because grief doesn't have a timeline, and loss from drunk driving carries a specific weight — the senselessness of it, the anger, the "what if" that never leaves.
You don't have to be strong here. You just have to be here.