“Grief is not different to physical pain. . . We have to accept it and understand that it comes in waves. You have to allow yourself to let it come and let it go. You will learn to let it walk alongside you, . . . You will absorb it as part of you.” I recently read these words, and wished I had found them sooner and posted them on my refrigerator. When grief arrived it waited, while I fought against it and stepped around it, to be accepted. The saying, you can’t hold back the tide, applies to grief as well, for waves of it certainly do come. How often or strong, or when, is unique to me. I’m just learning to let it walk with me, neither as a friend or an enemy, but as a sometimes very opinionated acquaintance. Grief carries my anger, fears, sadness, and immobility, preventing them from sinking so deep as to never give me the chance to let them go. It seemed at first that all grief did was steal my joy, but now I would call it borrowing and then returning it when it’s needed, as it becomes a part of me.