Grief, real extravagant grief may be the hardest thing I've ever experienced in my life. I say extravagant because like drapes and tapestries and silk scarves it covers and pads, muffles and mutes while simultaneously deepening and magnifying every single thing. I am swamped in emotional taffeta, tulle thicker than the air, drowning in a thickness of emotion I would have thought impossible in my small, jaded stupor a few months ago. Now I feel. Almost all of the time. And for all the coverage these are not gauzy feelings of soft lit candles and Rachmaninov, rather they are heavy woolen creations of misery and loneliness, and the lonelier I feel the more heavily barricaded in these emotions I become. I am disappearing even as in some ways I have been completely reborn by this grief. The emotional wretch is being replaced by an emotional wreck. And I can see no way through or out of these feelings.