It occurred to me today that grief is like standing waist deep in a heavy surf. The waves pour over your head and knock you to the bottom, but then they recede for a moment before they pound you once more. In that moment, you need to find your feet and take a step toward shore. Step by step, the water gets shallower and the waves become less powerful. They can still knock you down, but it isn’t so hard to get up again and the beating of the water is less overwhelming. Eventually, you can wade all the way out of the surf in the spaces between the waves. Working on grief is the same. Eventually you escape the waves of pain, but you never let go of the memory of your loss or the lessons you learned from it.