Retreat and Hide

I thought that once my grandmother passed away, so would I.
We would both be gone.
I would stand still while the earth rotates.

And so I stopped.
Alone.
Life moves on, but I needed a moment.

When I feel pressure, I retreat and hide like a soldier might in combat; or a like a gang-banger dodging bullets. I hid behind my own armored tanks and urban barricades, trying to escape the reality of loss, hopelessness, and hurt.

I just didn’t realize how difficult it would be to come out of hiding.