What no one really knows about grief, specifically my grief, is the frequency at which this face happens :
See, if grief is the absence of love (or the ghost of love, or whatever), it’s also the absence of people.
Grief is lonely. It is unique, whatever or whoever it is you’re grieving it’s yours and yours alone. My Dad is not the same as the Dad my sister lost. My Mom is not the same woman my aunt lost. We each grieve a relationship which cannot be quantified, and so it cannot be shared.
And so, what *you* (or anyone who isn’t me right now, really) don’t know is that face, that photo above, is the face of that desperate loneliness. That howling and primal fear, that awful indigestible pain…
That’s what you don’t know. What you can’t possibly know. (And I hope you never do.)