But grief is a walk alone. Others can be there, and listen. But you will walk alone down your own path, at your own pace, with your sheared-off pain, your raw wounds, you denial, anger, and bitter loss. You'll come to your own peace, hopefully, but it will be on your own, in your own time.
Lance told me his father didn__ think much of him. __e wishes I was better. More better. At everything. I don__ do anything right, you know, Stevie. Nothing._ He said this matter-of-factly. He believed it as truth. Polly told me her father never said anything nice to her, but she kept trying as hard as she could to make him pay her some attention. __e always says, __on__ get fat as your mother has,_ but I don__ think Mom__ fat at all, but I try not to eat much, but he keeps saying it to me. Do you think I__ fat, Stevie? When my hair is messy do you think I look like a stray...
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Lance told me his father didn__ think much of him. __e wishes I was better. More better. At everything. I don__ do anything right, you know, Stevie. Nothing._ He said this matter-of-factly. He believed it as truth. Polly told me her father never said anything nice to her, but she kept trying as hard as she could to make him pay her some attention. __e always says, __on__ get fat as your mother has,_ but I don__ think Mom__ fat at all, but I try not to eat much, but he keeps saying it to me. Do you think I__ fat, Stevie? When my hair is messy do you think I look like a stray...
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