Perhaps this is grief
Grief The first time I experienced grief, it wasn’t because I had lost someone dear to me or a family member. It was me sitting alongside my uncle, he on a wooden chair padded thinly with foam and myself on a plastic chair with my legs outstretched, suggesting a subtle argument with my eyes to look up. The sensation of grief was obvious in the silence that was interspersed by the occasional sorry my uncle or the other guy would utter. The “sorry” was said with just enough soul to jerk a nod or smile from the brother neighbors we had come to visit. They had lost their brother and he was 28. Before I sat down, I shook hands with one of them and I thought of saying “please accept my condolences” just as I had seen done in movies, but the grip of the handshake made me say…