Grief doesn’t kill, but it can cripple. It can strafe a hole in the earth beneath your feet. I’ve lived through years of it, twisting, dodging and bucking against its monstrous tentacles, strangling me in sleep, in wakefulness, and during dreams. Grief. It’s a goddamn son of a bitch. It’s said time heals, but that’s not true. Time numbs you. That’s all. It numbs you so you can try to carve out a semblance of normalcy to continue living, whether you want to or not.