“What was the saddest moment in your life?”
“Sad is a pretty flat word; grief is much deeper. When I knew my grandpa was going to die, I wondered what grief was going to feel like. Then he died, and I wondered why I didn’t feel grief. Then at his memorial service, one of my aunts and some of my cousins started singing, and I sobbed uncontrollably. It was very primal–bypassed any thought or emotion or higher function. It was very physical; I heard and I cried, and there was no more choice to one or the other. I still didn’t ‘feel’ grief, but as soon as a song started, the deep sobs would start all over again.
It’s been years. There are still songs that aren’t safe for me to listen to, and I still don’t know what grief feels like.”