"You have to understand," she said. "Grief lasts forever."
"Like death," I said.
"Like death. Except death is someone else's condition, and grief is all yours."
"I feel worse now than I did shortly after she died."
"And you'll feel even worse next year. And worse the year after that, unless you find a way to
transform your grief."
"We're back to that."
"We've never left it," she said. "Grief comes to you all at once, so you think it will be over all at
once. But it is your guest for a lifetime."
"How should I treat this gift? This unwelcome, uninvited guest."
"Think of the one who sent it to you," she said.
The above excerpt is from a conversation Roger Rosenblatt shared in Kayak Morning: Reflections on Love, Grief, and Small Boats. See my post, Beside Myself, for my thoughts inspired by reading this memoir.