Gabe Easter

Normal

This is a late entry. By design.

 

I wanted to soak in the entirety of this weekend.

 

For the first time since Linzi had passed…I’d met an entire group of people with whom I shared a very tragic truth: we had, all of us, lost our loves.

 

There I stood, talking grief, talking life. Not crying or feeling nostalgic. Not making attempts to console the awkwardness of those around me or having to assuage the numerous, automatic and uncertain responses of “I’m so sorry.”

 

It just felt…normal.  And normal is such a weird word if you think about it.  Some attribute it to meaning the average of whatever subject to which it refers, while others base it upon the opinion of the general population.  I like to think that the idea of normal is very relative to our own perception of what we believe that word to mean.

 

To me. This was it.

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