“You’ll get through this”, that’s what people say. Don’t they? They said it to me and it really pissed me off. What exactly does it mean to get through this? Through what? What’s on the other side? I didn’t wanna get through it. I wanted to die in it. And then my mom, she said that grief is like a suitcase that’s at the bottom of your bed. And no matter what, without failure, you have to pick it up everyday, take it with you. Some days it will be filled with rocks and you won’t think you can carry it. And then other days, the light is a feather. That she said is getting through it. It made sense to me.