So, do not run from it. Escape will not do for you what acceptance will, even though the stark realization of what it is you must accept may shake you again and again.
Let your sorrow find its way out in tears, as often as it must, as often as you need this release.
So give way, my dear, to grief. Let the tears flow and let the hands become fists if need be to beat in rebellion. Yet, even as I say that, I will remind you that too long a rainy season is not good for a garden, and too frequent crying will dim the vision.
Something has happened to you, as it has happened to me; something that is the common lot. What shall we do-bow beneath it as if a millstone had fallen on us, or take it in our hands like a key to unlock the gate that opens up the golden stair?
-Up The Golden Stair
Elizabeth Yates, 1966