By month four, I knew I was grieving. I didn't always understand what grief was doing to me, but at least I knew what it was. There were words for what I was experiencing. Shock. Trauma. Brain fog. Anxiety. Anger. Loneliness. There were articles telling me that forgetting why I had walked into a room was normal. There were people telling me there was no timeline for grief. There were books explaining why I could be relatively okay one minute and completely fall apart the next