Grief does strange, terrible things to the human mind, and it is even crueler to children. That is what I told myself in that instant. Their young minds try to construct logic where there is only loss. They cling to sensations, to the last tactile memories, trying to make sense of a world that has suddenly lost its axis.
“Stop it, Noah,” I said sharply. The words scraped my throat, coming out harsher than I intended. I was barely holding my own composure together; I didn’t have the strength to manage his delusions. “We’ve already said our goodbyes. You have to be strong now.”
He didn’t listen. He shook his head violently, his dark hair falling over his eyes. For the first time that day, the dam broke. Tears spilled down his cheeks, hot and fast. His grip on my hand tightened until his fingernails dug into my skin, stinging, grounding me in his pain.
