A recent Washington Post article about digital clutter sent me to my inbox to see how many emails I was hanging onto – 390, some still unread. (Mike’s account has two.)

I started deleting – so many were unimportant! 

I stopped to read one about Mike I wrote on his birthday last year.

The resulting emotion surprised me. Astonished me, really. The last month of Mike’s life was so very hard, and reading about it brought it all back. 

I was – and am – sad and angry and sad and frustrated and sad and helpless. But only sometimes.

Time really does heal grief.