“Jack Brown …
Please show me how
When the smell of hatred
Is hot and dank against my cheek
Grief is a strange landscape: The world is the same, but you are not. You are still you, but the world is not. Everything has collapsed and gone cockeyed and reassembled in ways that only you can see. Even those who have lost the same person have still lost someone different than you have. It’s easy to feel like Alice, dropped down a dark rabbit hole.