The Right Way

Grief looks different for everyone. I'm good at pretending like I don't feel it at all. Maybe I seem callous to those with formed opinions on how a sister ought to grieve her newly-dead brother, I don't know.  What I do know is this: nobody counts my breaths like I do, weighing them against your silence. Nobody can reach inside my heart and pull out that stone that sits in there, weighing me down. My lips smile and my voice laughs and sometimes I sing even when nobody is watching, because I need convincing the most. There is no right way to be sad, and this is the way I know. I miss you, little brother.