She did not belong to the healthy group of widows and widowers who, after mourning, would nurture the seed of their grief into growing from lossperhaps continuing the dreams of the lost, or learning to cherish alone the things theyd cherished together.She belonged instead to the sad lot who clung to grief, who nurtured it by never moving beyond it. Theyd shelter it deep inside where the years padded it in saudade layers like some malignant pearl.
