I identified with so much of your personal essay. Your husband's suicide brought me back to my friend's 15 or so years ago, but what we really share is the sudden loss of a loved one without any warning: "The wailing on the street was a sound that I did not know I could, nor how to, produce. It has emanated from me one or two times since. I cannot purposely replicate it." As I was reading your recitation of the drive, it brought me back to my drive to the police station and the walk from there to my lover's home, and started to cry not with sadness but with shared pain, which, as you know is not a typical cry. The energy you imprinted into your words was easily read by me. Your description of the howl was all-too-perfectly understood by me. For those who can only intellectually empathize, I added this to my essay: "It is the sound of my soul crying out in pain from having its heart torn out and brain shattered suddenly, tragically and without any warning whatsoever. No, crying does not begin to describe it; it is the sound of unrestrained grief without any concern about the spectacle that I was for onlookers for an hour or more. Imagine having open heart surgery performed with a jagged and rusted scalpel without a drop of anesthesia; further imagine that it was at a frequency and wavelength that ripped a hole in space time and was heard across all eleven or more dimensions of the universe, not just then, but at every point in time. If you can close your eyes and feel the picture I just painted, maybe you will come close to understanding. If you can close your eyes and feel the picture I just painted, maybe you will come close to understanding my pain and my grief. And my Love, my Love, my Love."