There's another one coming around the corner every 15 minutes.
That's what my (ex) step-father told me when I was 16 and was convinced I was going to die of a broken heart, and that I would never find "a love like that again". Ha. I know.
I remember I chuckled through my tears a little. I wish he was here to wipe my tears away, and tell me that again, but he died last Monday of cancer.
It's been a rotten, no good, very bad 2 weeks. What's that they say about bad things happening in threes? Between Owen's ordeal, Pete dying, and the crushing feeling I am having in my chest from last night, I don't know that I could take much more right now.
If I delete posts, will that make it easier?