A mentor of mine from when I was young used to tell me that the grief people felt for their loved ones would never go away. Even as a young child this was more comforting to me than anything to fear.
What she said about grief that I loved/love is:
Grief is like a stone you carry around with you. At first it may seem huge and heavy – more like a boulder you’re trying to get out from under – but that eventually, with time and story-telling about the person, sharing their memory with others (even people who didn’t know them) the boulder is worn down and smoothed into a rock and then a stone, small enough to fit in your pocket. It’s slight weight is always with you – sometimes surprising you as you feel it while reaching for keys or a dollar bill.
How true this seemed to me then and how true it has turned out to be. I find myself at both the most poignant and most random times in my life, thinking about someone who has been gone almost as long as I have been alive. I will always miss my mom but there is some comfort in that. I will always miss her, and so I will carry her with me wherever I go.