It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be easier than this—I’d already done it once and survived. But what did I know? I was naïve when my mother died, arrogant even. I had dealt with my father's death 7.5 years prior and now I'll deal with my mother's. It was painful, yes, but it'd cost me only a few months before I was back to me. But what did I know? I have since learned that I never properly grieved my father. I have learned that working in the same academic field as your parents is a blessing and a curse. More curse than blessing when they're dead. I have learned that death of a loved one is not something you get over. It's something that stays with you all your life, just like your love for them stays with you all your life. I have learned that the road I need to go down is treacherous, but not impassable. It certainly feels impassable some days. I'm not out of the woods yet, but maybe I can make a home in the woods instead. My grief is deeply intertwined with my love for my parents. Less grief would mean less love. And so I'm slowly learning to embrace the grief for what it is.