One must come to be self-aware when attempting to grieve the “correct” way. It’s a process of deciphering a relationship with someone who has passed. In the same ways that love gives meaning to memories, the weight of the moments that scar also hold their own odd fondness that, while often troubling, symbolized that there existed some sort of tethering between the dead and the living. They are often considered to be two sides of the same coin; love and grief are tied to one another because in order for something to be worth grieving over it must have been loved. Grief is love run backwards, the longing for something that no longer exists, an ode to the past to point out an emptiness in the future. And oftentimes that is where grief lies. Where there is a past but no longer a future—is where grief operates, working to make sense of absence. It’s only in defining this absence through the love of what once was that we as humans are able to recognize the importance of loss. It’s why the process is such a fickle thing. Because in the same way that labors of love are acts of understanding and empathy, a building up of relationships through showcasing exactly why someone or something is worthwhile in one’s life. Grief is the labor of breaking these things down. That by breaking apart these bonds there is an active acknowledgment of the importance of these things that make up the whole. To grieve isn’t just the act of letting go. It is the active process of unwrapping what was tied together. The laughter of a loved one, the way one’s hair blows in the wind, the rhythm of breath during sleep; these little things are often what people mourn the most—and it’s precisely because to grieve is to slowly unravel these memories of another. To spend time unwrapping what unconsciously was familiar enough to be home.