Recently, my father lost his mother, and seeing him mourn made me inevitably think about the future. It is painful, but what is life without suffering? In all stories of love, someone must leave first, and that is a tale as old as time. I won’t sit here pretending like I have an answer as to why we feel anticipatory grief or how to treat it. I’ve accepted that I will have to live with it, treating it like an old friend that lingers quietly by the door.