Sucker Punch Sally

It turns out grief is a fickle bitch. You’re nearly 5 years in. Managing. Understanding that the loss isn’t easier, but you’re better at managing it. 

Then your sister gets engaged. You think about how she’d be so proud and excited. She’d be involved as much as you’d let her. She’d alter the dress. She’d secretly give her some money to put towards the celebration. She’d have insisted on throwing a shower—and inviting EVERYONE. She’d be keeping people in line. 

She’d manage expectations. She’d show up. She’d be the Auntie. She’d also be a second mother. 

You don’t realize any of this. Not until you’re in the final stages of planning your sister’s wedding. 

Sucker Punch Sally Grief hits you right in the gut. The bitch watches you stagger backward completely caught off guard. One foot back. Catching yourself. 

Your head lolls back. Unexpectedly. Just as you shake off the surprise you see her coming at you again. This time slightly more prepared you catch your breath and announce that you’re emotional before she makes contact. 

You block her. The second punch didn’t land. Breathless you wonder how in the world you got here. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and finish the sentence. Saying it aloud was much harder than reading it. Sucker Punch Sally retreats. Her work here is done. 

She was sent to remind you of the cost of love. And remind you, she has.