I don’t know if this is a real term, and I hope it makes sense. Interstitial grief is what we feel when a loved one dies because it gets into every muscle, nuance, and bone.
It showed up last week during my walk at dawn. I wrote it down on the piece of paper I keep tucked in my pocket for thoughts like this, and it felt true. Right after this, I jotted down “diphthong on singsong,” but I have no idea what that means.
It’s difficult to explain the physical impact of grief to someone who has never grieved.
