Anthony: I sense a poem?
Me: I sense cynicism?
Anthony: Go for it, Jules.
Me: Grief is more of question mark than a word or a concept.
Anthony: Please, not the metaphorical – please!
Me: Grief is like punctuation – it comes and goes and is very subjective – and it isn’t a sentence.
Anthony: Not sure what you mean exactly.
Me: Okay, so Ming responded to a friend who innocently asked him what he was doing on the 23rd with OH YES IT IS THE DEATHDAY OF MY DAD!!!
Anthony: He has your dramatic attributes.
Me: No, he has YOUR dramatic attributes.
Anthony: The poem?
Me: I have lost it now – argh – it was something to do with grief being like a coin on which the other side is gratitude. For example, the greater the grief, the greater the love lost = gratitude for what was.
Anthony: Is.
Me: What?
Anthony: Please use the present tense from now on when you talk about love.
Me: Yeah, but I don’t want to sound all squishy squashy, wishy washy….
Anthony: JULES!
Me: Yes, Ants?
Anthony: It is all good. And, by the way, I am having drinks tomorrow to celebrate you!
Me: I miss you to the point of no return, Ants!
Anthony: Change the punctuation, Jules; change the sentence(s); keep writing and come back!
Me: Okay. I think I get it now.
jmgoyder 
What a gift is the gift of words. A sort of weaving surrounding your grief and cushioning it. Love at its ultimate.