I spent the morning in rehab. With 15 recovering addicts. All but two were men, all ages, representing a wide range of economic status. Their stories of death, loss and grief left me spent and bent. Losing their moms, their wives, their babies, their brothers, to cancer, war, murder, and addiction; I left stunned by the human capacity to actually go on after one suffers so greatly. They wept, they spoke of details never shared before, and they all expressed, “Damn why do I have to cry?” Driving from their facility, my heart aches for the roadblock that grief has became in the path to their recovery. I am, yet again, flooded with gratitude for life, love and the many relationships I have. Oh how I have been spared so much and I know I have done nothing to deserve it.