Periodic Melancholy

Bereavement is a ninja, isn’t it? Like a sniper, without warning, hits you right at the bullseye that is the seat of your emotions. I miss my father. The sort when you grit your teeth to stop the tears from flowing then you inhale with a staggered breath and your chest suddenly feels icy cold. A tear escapes, followed by another and another...and you exhale—surrendering to the feeling. Oh well. Life.