As someone who had to deal with grief at an early age, I’ve found that it never truly dissipates. Grief doesn’t end. It simply builds. After the flood of “caring” neighbors and forgotten friends stop coming, you’re stuck with the quiet. Forced to think of the big life moments your lost will never see and the absence of new memories. Then, the old memories make their way. That one song that reminds you of that one fishing trip. The smell of their favorite dish. The bluebirds that they told you to never trust, despite their beauty. The bitter sweetness of the remembrance of when that person was still present is the hardest form of grief to feel. It is never ending.