Page 44:
The beauty of grief is its clarity. What we have control over in our lives is not what happens, but it is in the choices we make after things happen and how we move forward. I had lived in denial of death and under the illusion that all would be stable and predictable in the safety net of our love. There had never been an obstacle Richard and I could not tackle together or a challenge we couldn’t overcome. I had lived a life of affirmation alongside a man who became the foremost "happiness expert" in the world, and I was his wife. Would it have been easier to crawl into our empty bed with antidepressants and a fifth of vodka and disappear into the sadness? Maybe. But my daughters were looking to me for strength. I also knew I wanted to honor Richard by living for both of us. And, deep down, happiness is something we choose. It is lived in moments, moment to moment, like a strand of pearls. And I knew I’d rather be happy than miserable, but sorrow had to be embraced with open arms first. I was not going to have one without the other for some time.
As I sat facing this void in the quiet of morning, feeling alone and isolated, trapped in the waves of my despair, one empty coffee mug sitting beside my full one, I realized I needed to let Grief in. I needed to surrender. Grief would lead me and I would move through it, no matter what it brought. There was no escape route as an option.
I said: "God, bring it on," and it came like a tsunami.
