Writing Has Always Been The Primary Way

Time Doesn’t Obey Our Commands. You Cannot Make It Holy Just Because It Is Disappearing.

Much Of Hamlet Is About The Precise Kind Of Slippage The Mourner Experiences: The Difference Between Being And Seeming, The Uncertainty About How The Inner Translates Into The Outer, The Sense That One Is Expected To Perform Grief Palatably. (if You Don’t Seem Sad, People Worry; But If You Are Grief-stricken, People Flinch Away From Your Pain.)

Many Americans Don't Mourn In Public Anymore - We Don't Wear Black, We Don't Beat Our Chests And Wail.

One Word I Had Throughout The First Year And A Half Of My Mother's Death Was 'unmoored.' I Felt That I Had No Anchor, That I Had No Home In The World.

Be Patient With Yourself. Don't Make The Loss Harder By Thinking You Should Be A Certain Way, Or Have Bounced Back, Etc.