There is no cliche for what she writes, how real losing her voice is but then we read it. And no doubt it's still there. If I could write like her I would write a million words of light and windows and how those trees in the yard haunt her but I'd say why and it's going to be okay but it's not.
He lost his Dad over the weekend.
Sometimes it seems the shittiest thing to do is be grateful when friends are hurting.