answers

Grief makes for dull reading.  How could it be otherwise, when the author's brain and senses are numb, the ending unknown, the energy-giver gone?


We read about grief (I include myself here, thousands of words read on the topic) because, I expect, we want "an answer."  Not "the" answer, that's not possible, but yearning for a possibility of light inside the cave.


Surprise:  No answer.


And the only ones who offer one haven't been where I am.  Those who have only say:  It's hard.  Sometimes, they add: You're brave.


It is hard.  I am not brave.  Neither pain nor courage are options.  


Candace