What isn't obvious to the griever is that hiding grief isn't the same as letting it go. Hiding allows the grief to blossom deep within me. It becomes a weed, claiming good soil for itself and choking to death the good that has been cultivated within me.
In my personal effort to grieve a death I've never grieved, I have had to dig deep within myself to grasp at my grief's roots. That grasping has taken the form of many words--as I give voice to the grief, its shape becomes distinct from the now-hardened soil in which it dwells, and I can grasp it with gradually increasing ease.
In what ways will I have to embrace my grief before it releases its hidden grip on me?