It's Not What I Do, It's What I need.

This weekend has taught me some things about how people grieve. I always knew that each of us had our own way of going about things, but it was never so telling than this weekend. I spent the night that my grandfather died on a rooftop listening to music and watching people who looked like they hadn't a care in the world. There was a wide range of ages and ethnicities. Everyone united in a single quest to have fun.

I had fun. I had fun and for those few hours I didn't think about missing Pop or my mom being sad or anything really. I just thought about how my feet hurt and how I have some pretty amazing friends. My friends always seem to step right in without prompting. They seem to know that sometimes grief doesn't look like tears. Sometimes it looks like two friends sitting on a rooftop.