Grief: again.

I turned to baseball for solace.

Some way to make the day seem normal.

Though I make a point to enjoy regular days, the kind I beg for when something happens.

Just last week I saw Kansas City play in Seattle.

It made me think of home. That’s why I went.

Maybe it was all that Midwestern blood in the stadium.

But just before the first pitch, it was like my grandfather had just died again.

It’d been three months.

I felt that way yesterday, too, sitting by Lake Washington.

And then I heard my dog had died.

And I watched a couple of innings and didn’t even know who won or lost.

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