It’s a day of pranks and foolery, only I don’t feel like laughing. Used to be people wore black armbands, heavy crepe. There was a period of mourning, a time set aside for grief.

But we live in a 24-hour news cycle. The days pass in a flurry, blur one into another. Emotions are fluid. We go back to work, we soldier on.

Grief lingers, though. It is with me in the morning, when the house is quiet. It is with me at night, when I wake up hours before the alarm. It shows up in the work day, too, sometimes when I least expect it.

It’s not an efficient emotion, not something that can be rushed through or even measured. And it has no short-cuts. Perhaps because it concerns itself with eternity.

So I guess it’s up to each of us now, to give ourselves the time we need. To give grief its due.