Grief knows no boundaries. It does not respect time or place. It cannot read the room, or wait for the right moment. It has no edges where it may begin or end but rather it bleeds into pieces of us that we did not know it could touch.
It shows up unexpectedly on our doorstep, it lets itself in and then barricades itself in the hallows of our chest, in the sinews of our hearts, and the veins within our memories. It cannot be extracted, resected, or ignored. No matter how honorable our efforts may be to remove it,
