Puzzle

I've got a new metaphor for grief: a 5,000 piece puzzle. Each piece is an aspect of my life with Maura and my future without her. Most of the times that I cry, it's just a micro-cry; just a few seconds of grief, and then it's over until the next time. Each time I cry,it's because I am finding a new piece and fitting it into the puzzle. One piece: hearing Christmas music and seeing Christmas decorations at a luncheon at work. Another piece: tracing the curves of her name in the silver fabric paint on her Christmas stocking. There are some things that make me sad over and over again, which I suppose is like those horrible pieces that never seem to fit anywhere, no matter how hard I try. I've gone through so many pieces of her life, of our lives, and maybe when the puzzle is finished, I'll be whole again. Or maybe not. Maybe some of the pieces will stay lost forever, and I'll never be whole, but just like a puzzle, I'll be recognizable, even if I'm missing a few pieces.