I knew from the start that there would be grieving.
As soon as I was back home I immersed myself in it.
In what the poet Alice Oswald says, "Not the feeling of grief, but the being of grief". 
I started with the book that had moved me the most in the past: 
"Time lived without its flow", by Denise Riley.
Grief has a unique relationship with time. Not the passage of time, but its absence, its stillness,
its non-linearity.
I read scientific papers on the stages of grief.
I read elegies, poems about loss.
But struggled to come to terms with my own.

Everything I read about grief,
grieved for others lost – people, places, objects.
How do I grieve
when it's me who I have lost.
A part?
The whole?
How do I?