I pulled into the cemetery.
I’ve done this so many times now. You’d think it would get easier.
It doesn’t.
I parked in the same spot I always do. Close enough that I can see their headstone from here. Far enough that I have a minute to sit with myself before I have to walk over there and face it.
I turned off the engine. Sat there. Hands gripping the steering wheel.
The flowers I bought are sitting on the passenger seat. I grabbed them at the grocery store on the way here. I always bring something. It feels wrong to show up empty-handed.
I took a breath. And then I got out of the car.
