Today, I heard from a loved one who for a minute was able to remind me that before I had Cory, I was a whole person...a whole person who smiled, and laughed, and regularly shaved her legs. I used to be a whole person who made people laugh, was a terrible flirt, had outstanding taste in music, and considered herself at least moderately attractive.
This person who comforts me, without even really trying, gently but firmly blocked every one of my protests that I cannot get past my guilt that Cory's death was my fault.
Somehow this exchange ended with me wondering if one day I might be a whole person again. In someone's eyes, if not my own.
And I was smiling a real just-for-me smile, not the sort that are manufactured to please other people.
We call it "more smile than face".
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