“I think I know where this is going, Kris.” “No, you don’t. I want to ask people if they ever feel sad. Like, I know they do, but I want to hear them say it.” Alice points her pen at me and smiles. A breakthrough. “That’s because you want to know you’re not alone in your grief. Perfectly normal,” she says, jotting things down, perhaps writing “Perfectly Normal” under my name. I don’t see her again because she made a good point, and I wasn’t there for the good points.
