FIVE STAGES

Lorraine Lebedeva

Grief has a way of removing you from the world.

It comes in little waves, at first they are calming and sometimes they are overwhelming.

It's been three days since she died. After that evening, I immediately went home and locked myself in my room.

Once in a while the maids would check up on me, even Dante. But what I found funny is that I haven't spoken to my father.

We've both been grieving in different ways.

He's been cold and distant and I've been depressed or somehow lost.

I'm surprised I haven't seen him shed a single tear, they smuggled each other with so much love, so seeing him acting like he was not bothered or that she literally wasn't the love of his life confused me.

It was strange even for him.

I sat on an arms chair and glazed out the window, a light blanket of snow covered the ground, and armed guards walked around the yard fulfilling their duty. I was all alone, father just left a few hours ago to God knows where.

I haven't visited Katina in the hospi