Living with Loss

I've been harboring these woeful thoughts for quite a while now, pushing them to the deep and dark places of my being. I know it's not healthy, but what is a person to do? Living goes on and like it or not, I'm a part of the living. I know all the psychological precepts of how suppressing our emotions can bring disastrous consequences and for a while I somehow made myself believe that I was coping with this tragedy of ours. I know now it was false coping and how seriously dangerous that can be. Apparently, the emotions were just simmering in my gut, bubbling every now and again bringing out a little tear or short cry. I thought maybe the grieving that was so absolutely exhausting and encompassed my being with tormenting agony was over.  I could in fact go through the days and manage my self enough not to cry at the innocuous objects that frequently spark my memories to light, sting my soul, and remind me he's dead. I am pretty good at showing that facade, Ive got it d