After the Group

I sometimes wonder if I had died first if Tracy would spend his days wearing my pink robe, clutching onto the clothing I died in, refusing to wash it and crying all over it. The man in the grief group answered me today that although he does not wear his wife's clothes that he does bury his face in her clothing crying hoping to catch a small scent of what she smelled like. Frequently on the way home the women in the group can be seen pulled over or unable to even leave the parking lot because of crying and not fit to drive. Today on the way home I saw the man in the group pulled over crying. I am sorry Mr. Zeigler that you are sad today.