Recently I met with a friend, and one of the things that I love about our time together is she helps to complete my circle of grief. I'm not saying that because it completes my circle that my grief is linear or circular. It's just that when we talk, she makes space for my tears. When we chatted, we talked about all of the new things that seem to be happening within our group of people. She also lets me verbalize that my writing about my journey had tapered off. My words that once had jagged edges had begun the process of being smooth, and with that smoothing comes a sadness.

Raw grief is edgy. It's vocal. It gave me a voice, but now it has grown quiet. For the most part, the world around me is grateful for the quiet. Yet there are others that are on the front end of their grief. They don't have a voice of their own. I believe that I give them a voice.

So that brings me to my friend. The grief she carries is similar to mine. She sees the devastation of a future without our person. She is reminded of others within our circle who, although it's not spoken, the loss and emptiness left behind are fresh and new as each birthday is celebrated and each wedding attended. We can see the love of our person in each of the people that have been left behind, and we can see how very much we miss him. So inevitably, when we are together, tears are freely shared. The language of love, grief, and longing are the words spoken.

I'm grateful for these coffee dates, for they give us both space to feel all that is within us that doesn't have room in the large crowds around us. I believe they are an oasis for us both. Thank you for making space for me. I miss Evan every day, and I'm so thankful for the days that when I miss him, and I'm with you, I don't have to cry alone.