Let me say this about grief. My grandmother died on April 14, 2017; I think. Dementia, stokes while escaping Katrina and heartache killed her some years ago. I marveled on how well I handled the grief. After all, she was almost 85, loved the Lord, lived well and had a held out as long as she could to that shell of her body. Intellectually I understood the inevitability of the end of life and seemed to handle it well. I did not attend her funeral, simply for reason being I did not want my last memory to be of her in a box, simply a void of what once was. I thought I had came to terms with losing her, I felt grief and all the emotions of it while she was here detoriating away.. But little did I know that grief had etched itself in my veins, arteries, deep in my bones and broke my body from the inside out.