What do we do? 

We have sat. We have cried. We have stared blankly at the TV screen. We have watched too much Bob Ross. 

We needed to sweat. 

So we did.

We worked out, every day. We ended together, in the sauna, allowing the sweat to drip off of us as if our problems might be lessened by the heat of the sauna fire. As if the pains were physical, and trapped inside us, and if we could just sweat it all out, we might feel better. 

And we did. 

The best grief advice I've accumulated so far: Sweat.