Michelle writes that "It felt wrong to talk to anyone, to smile or laugh or eat again knowing that she was dead." Could you relate to this description of grief? Could you relate to her impulse to go to the orchard?

Michelle recalls visiting an orchard with her husband after her mother's death, explaining, "I wondered if they could see it on my face. When I realized they couldn't, it somehow also felt wrong. It felt wrong to talk to anyone, to smile or laugh or eat again knowing that she was dead" (p. 156).

Could you relate to this description of grief?

Could you relate to her impulse to go to the orchard, a place she often visited with her father as a child?

In some ways I did. When grief is so new and raw, just getting up in the morning and trying to go through the motions is terribly difficult. And when it's a young woman who's lost her mother, at a relatively young age of 50-something, that is a double whammy. A mother-daughter relationship is intense, close and complicated like no other.

I felt the same way after losing first my parents, then my husband. You feel almost guilty to be alive when they aren’t. I think it is a very natural part of grief. It really is a process to get through. If you try to avoid any of the stages of grief, you simply can’t get through it.

This is exactly what grief feels like. It robs you of all joy and makes you want to disengage with life because it feels wrong to be a part of something your loved one no longer is. I could definitely relate. I thought her choice to go to the orchard made perfect sense. The only places you can go in the beginning are those with no memories of the person who has passed. Anywhere else is too painful to consider.

Yes, in fact I felt gratified that my own reactions of grief after the deaths of my father and mother were very similar to Michelle’s. I was 20 years older than Michelle, yet her grief felt like my grief.

Not only did I feel it was inappropriate and impossible for ME to talk, smile, laugh, eat or go about the daily activities of living — it was quite upsetting that strangers were blithely following their regular routines. I knew my feelings were irrational, yet because my world had just stopped turning, I resented others for acing normally.

And yes, the only place that I didn’t feel guilty about leaving my home to visit was similar to the orchard that Michelle visited. Hopefully while experiencing a deep loss, everyone can find a peaceful place to visit like the orchard — whether it exists physically or just in their soul.

Yes, I have felt grief in this way also, especially after losing my mother and (many years later) a daughter. I feel like this comes and goes - sometimes I feel that I cannot express any happiness and other times, like I need to for the person I lost. Especially, for the daughter who I lost and would want me to have the happy feelings she is not here to have. Sometimes this involves holding onto a connection with her and sometimes it is being very separate. The tricky part is often navigating what helps one surviving family member yet makes another hurt more. I have found that we best support each other in grieving when we can accept that others follow their own journey.

I think that is very relatable and very common. It's part of grieving, you can't just smile and "get past it" and live your life. When I've lost loved ones, I experienced the sense that they were just in the other room, and then I remembered they would never walk in the room again.

Grief sometimes makes the survivors feel guilty that they are still alive. It is difficult to be happy when a loved one is not that to share it. I certainly have had those feelings after the death of my parents too.

I felt guilt along with my grief when my husband died and my father. Of course, it is comforting to be where they were especially where they loved to be with you. I recall thinking I should not buy anything that was not absolutely necessary because who really needs "things" and why be happy with "things" when I was so sad.

When death takes a loved one it is a reminder that every day that process is happening to thousands of people, but when it happens to you it is devastating. The switch from being able to call and talk to a parent to having just memories is brutal, even more so given Michelle’s youth.

Grief can have a crippling affect for all of us. It’s a hand grasping your heart and squeezing.The world’s perception of grief is to disable so we feel the heaviness of a death. We feel the wrongness of a laugh, a smile or any joy. Taking small steps, we strive toward a more balanced life. Never completely shedding your grief but adapting to it. Michelle went through this process both in her living her life but also in her music.

I could relate to her feelings that it was wrong to continue on when her mother was dead. When my brother died at the age of 19 (I was 21) I felt like the world should stop and how dare people keep going on with their lives. They should all know that he was gone - of course they didn’t. Even now over 30 years later I can still remember the intensity of the feelings of my grief.

I did relate to it even though my mother is alive. I am temporarily acting as caregiver to my 79 year old mother after surgery and when I see other seniors getting around at the store and enjoying life and feel that life is so unfair. I find myself very envious of elderly people that are blessed with good mobility and health.

I understand this thought. I suppose it is guilt of those left behind - why this person instead of me? In our grief, it is difficult to accept why we remain alive and well, especially after watching someone suffer through a long illness.

This line stood out to me as well. Hospice nurses are experts in helping families deal with these emotions. I learned a lot just talking to them, but there is no blueprint to deal with losses like this. I did find myself being even more grateful than I usually am that both of my parents are still alive and vowing to be more patient the next time I have to explain something technological to my mother.

My experience was very different. My mother had a series of mini strokes resulting in the beginnings of dementia and "silent" seizures. She was in her 80's at the time. I moved her to my home. My daughter and granddaughter moved in as well, to help.
My mother had a morbid fear of being placed in a rest home. I promised never to do that. Eleven years later, we still continued caring for her. We had a wonderful visiting nurse who helped us above and beyond reason. My mother's dementia continued to worsen to the point she no longer recognized any of us and no longer spoke or understood. Later that year she passed away at home at age 99. Because of her quality of life towards the end, my primary feeling was one of relief for her. my family and for myself. I had already been grieving for my loss for years. I was able to concentrate on carrying out her wishes (expressed long before) for items to be gifted to the library, old friends, etc. I was able to count the many blessings we had experienced during the time she was with us. Even our Rhodesian Ridgeback was part of my blessings as he was able to detect her seizures and alert us repeatedly all on his own. I have the deepest sympathy for others who experience the sudden loss of a loved one.

Everyone handles grief differently and no one should be judged by that. And if going places where you spent time with that person makes you feel closer to them, then you should do that. If you haven’t lost a parent, most people don’t know what you are going through. The people at the orchard were just going on with their lives unknowingly.