I attended a conference a couple of weeks ago after returning from Colorado. I sat with a guy I had met once; business acquaintance. He could not stop talking about his son. He was a senior in high school and apparently a jazz musician prodigy. But that’s not the part that bothered me. As he raved and raved about his son’s musical ability, all I could think was, “What if he asks me how many kids I have?” I began to panic. My mind tuned him out and began to spin: Do I say I only have one grown daughter? Do I go into any kind of detail such as, I had two but now I only have one? Around and around in my brain like the agitation of a sock in a washing machine. Head pounding, heart racing, I finally had to excuse myself. I couldn’t even stay for the rest of the conference! This, too, is a part of grief.