Thank you for making me doubt myself.
For giving me the taste of being happy and then ripping the rug out from under me.
Making me appreciate the days, where I want to participate in the world,
instead of being second string.
Seeing my nephew run full speed at me like a greyhound,
waiting for me to come over and play, embracing me.
And me, stopping in the moment for sixty seconds wanting a groundhogs day— to experience pure, joy, and not taking it for granted
Giving me the tools I would have never had if it weren’t for group therapy.
When I look at my sisters—
and have the coping skills to handle, the weight
of three grandparents dying in five years,
Instead of running from my grief like a scared child, hiding under the covers waiting,
for the monsters to disappear.