It's been almost two years since my marriage to Leo ended, and except for a few tears shed here and there, I still have not had a heart wrenching, soul crushing cry to mourn my marriage. Though I've often wondered upon my absent tears, and think back to other break-ups, some I vividly recall embracing crying as both my cleansing and starting over - it took me a while to realize that I have mourned Leo - and that weeping does not always come in tears.
With Leo, the circumstances surrounding our break-up and my struggle to find him in the shattered pieces of us created a gray space that demanded more of me - not just my heart but a pound of flesh and bone and pride and dignity. Indeed, I have mourned him - mourned us - a thousand times in a thousand different ways with each stroke of my pen laced with our painful outcome - mourned him in all hours of sleepless nights and early mornings when I was compelled to write, edit, and delete my way back to this loved self that I call home.
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