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It's so final. There's nothing anyone can do. It's done. And that's the rub.

From the time we are old enough to understand - we know there is death. It's in every Disney Story - Bambi, Dumbo, Cinderella, Lion King (all of them):

think about it.

So, we've always known; since the beginning of time, people die. How is it then that I have been so sheltered from the reality of what grief really is? How did I miss the heartache that attaches to a great love lost?

I've read the classics.

I understood the plot, theme, and tone.

Yet I missed the point completely.

And now, I type to a message board to talk to others who know. And what choice have we but to accept?

That's the part that creates the frustration. The part that blocks the healing. It's the finality of something so far from our control and the inevitability of it all.

It’s happening again, right now, to some poor unsuspecting soul. There it is –hear it?

Someone just shrieked "NOOOOOOOOO"

And they are not accepting the inevitable finality that is woven into every life.

Life is uncertain. Death is inevitable.

Accept it.

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