The author reflects on his profound grief following his son Rob's suicide, comparing his feelings to a childhood question, "Are we there yet?" Eight months post-tragedy, he grapples with sadness and the misconception that time will ease his pain. Despite desires for closure and positive reflection, he confronts the harsh reality of grief's unpredictability, struggling between wanting to choose his response and acknowledging the depth of his loss. Throughout, he shares struggles with self-deception and longing for a state of joyful memory rather than sorrow.
Sometimes it feels like I'm forcing myself to "snap out of it" and "get on with my life," as if I'm racing against an imaginary grief clock.
But the act of telling myself that I have some choice in how to deal with Rob's loss—instead of passively allowing my feelings to come and go as they please—is really just that: an act.
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