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“I always think of grief like an ocean," I say. "At first, the water is rougher than you knew possible. Tidal waves one after the other, no let-up, pulling you under. All you can do is drift and hope you’ll come up for air before it’s too late. Then, slowly . . . Eventually . . . There will be a gap long enough for you to take a lungful of oxygen before you’re pulled back under. This part lasts the longest, living for the brief moment you can breathe again. But over time the waves ease, the gap between them lengthens. And while you’re floating, you grow a little bit stronger. You know they’ll keep coming. It’s all the water knows. But you’re prepared. You know how to ride it out. That the lull will come again . . . sooner or later.” — Leeanne Slade