Grief has a body, a presence. We come to know grief’s shape by standing near it, by letting it enter. When we do this we recognize that grief has its own quiet tenderness, its own yearnings.
The texture and color of grief will change over time; it never stays the same. And we can sense into those changes through the use of visualization, meditation, writing.
Because it always has something to teach us, grief has a strong charge. It demands our attention and seeps in as if through the floorboards and moonlight.
To coexist with grief requires patience; each time it shows up it may feel like a new animal. It may stubbornly threaten to take over. But we can receive it skillfully, gaze directly at it with curiosity.