Something terrible happened, something unimaginable -- and in the morning, someone showed up. With a cup of coffee. Coffee that promised me: it’s going to be okay.

It made me think about how I wish I was already at that place where I can remember some of the good stuff without triggering all the grief. And then I made broccoli tonight and Mila gave it a shot.

I don’t feel like I was only one who felt the extra energy, whether it was from someone loved and lost, or maybe just memories of who we were and who we’d wanted to be, lingering thoughts of a different time, or hope for a time when things are better— there is joy and grief in remembering, in believing.