There is no despair so absolute as that which comes with the first moments of our first great sorrow, when we have not yet known what it is to have suffered and be healed, to have despaired and have recovered hope.

A first deep sorrow feels bottomless partly because you have nothing to set beside it. Later griefs are no lighter, but by then some part of you remembers having been in the dark and having come out, and that memory keeps a small light on. Without it, the pain seems to be the permanent shape of things rather than a season you are inside. That is not a failure of perspective, it is what the dark looks like before you have the evidence.

If you are in that place now, you are not required to believe it will pass. Let the next hour be the only distance you cover.