People give you tips and tools on how to control grief, and grief laughs in the face of those rules.
Five months in, when you think you've gotten a handle on managing it, you walk into the grocery store to buy some ice cream. Suddenly, you hear the first notes of a song that once mattered to you and the person you lost as you meander the frozen food aisle.
You sniffle and try to shake it off. But the song just keeps playing, refusing to be ignored.
By the first chorus you find yourself weeping, slumped over your grocery cart in heaving sobs. People make wide circles around you in the aisle is case whatever is wrong with you might rub off on them. Your chest feels like your heart will burst and you almost wish it would. You find it hard to breathe and have to gasp to get enough air to keep from fainting. Eventually, the song ends, you regain composure, you buy your ice cream and go home.
That's something no one ever tells you about grief.
