The grief group at st. mark's... is it too soon to laugh again? she would've wanted me to laugh but everything feels like a betrayal now. the phantom buzzing in my pocket. thought it was @sofia at first, then i remember. The guilt of joy feels like proof I didn't love them enough, as if my sadness is some kind of tribute. But isn't remembering the laughter its own kind of honoring, a refusal to let the story end only in sorrow?