"I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing eyes -
I wonder if it weighs like Mine -
Or has an Easier size.
I wonder if they bore it long -
Or did it just begin -
I could not tell the date of mine -
It feels so old a pain -
I wonder if it hurts to live -
And if they have to try -
And whether - could they choose between -
It would not be - to die-
I note that some - gone patient long -
At length, renew their smile -
An imitation of a light
That has so little oil -
~ Emily Dickinson ~
I can't really say it gets easier but I can say it isn't as painful as it was four years ago today. The other thing I know for sure is people get tired of listening which is one reason I keep writing.
Blessings ~ Dave ~