By Jess Dorrance
“He washed his hands” / “She got love” —EarthBodyHOME
The work of grieving is often a paradoxical activity. It can feel so personal, so alienating, so isolating. And yet, as many writers have pointed out, it is frequently through grief that we are forced to reckon with how our connections to others are what constitute that thing we call our “self.” In grieving, we confront how the loss of the other also entails the loss of our self as we knew it, and we are faced with the prospect of what it might mean to reconstitute our self anew.