"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensationis like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.
At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed.
There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me.
I find it hard to take in what anyone says.
Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in.
It is so uninteresting.
Yet I want the others to be about me.
I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me…”
(C. S. Lewis)
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