Explanation:

When I think of grief, I first and foremost think of the shock factor that accompanies it, the almost overwhelming paralysis that takes over your senses. You just want to cut yourself off from the world and be by yourself, alone with your thoughts.
Then time moves slowly, so slowly it almost appears that time isn’t moving at all. Some say grief is like depression, varying in degrees but undeniably painful.
Pain comes next. It’s hot, burns through your body like wildfire. Not much can stop its wrath from consuming you. It’s the kind of pain that makes you angry but makes you sad at the same time. The kind of pain that makes you confused as to whether you should punch the wall until your knuckles bleed or cry face first into your pillow until it is sopping wet.
The old saying, “Time heals all wounds” is often associated with grief and loss; because that’s all we can do, wait. Wait and see if everything that people tell us about “life gets better” and “the grass is green on the other side” is true. Wait and see if we are strong enough for this. Wait and see if there is actually something that fills the void in our hearts just as well as the thing before it did.
But the one line that keeps yelling to us after we try so hard to drown it out:
What if it happens again?