Grief is weird. It catches you at odd moments, creates weird responses, and never entirely goes away. I'm a big fan of the Ball In A Box analogy, which I think does more to explain the experience than just about anything else I've found. But one of the weirdest elements, for me, is that life doesn't just stop the way you think it should. Stubbornly, aggravatingly, it goes on. So you grieve, but also you go to work. You grieve, and you cook dinner (or order pizza). You grieve, and you go buy groceries.
Grief is also exhausting. Spending the weekend in the hospital watching my father pass away left me utterly drained. Writing the first draft of his obituary did it again. Writing my remarks for the memorial service left me wanting to crawl inside a pillow fort and sleep for a week. Just getting through the day leaves me tired -- and though this, too, shall pass, I just haven't quite gotten there yet.
Grief is a part of life. It's price we pay for being able to love.
But that doesn't mean it doesn't suck.
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