Grieving = ‘feeling funny’
WEDNESDAY, June 23 – ‘I feel funny,’ Eamonn says, and he is visibly upset. He can’t explain exactly what it is. No, he’s not tired, despite spending the whole day in the pool and walking around Monaco, so that it’s way past his bedtime. No, it’s not about Mom, and not about C, and not about the accident, not about school, not about me or Sander, he just feels strange. Okay, then climb onto my lap. That helps. A little.
Diary of a Widower 