Grief is a strange process. You forget and remember and forget and then remember and on and on until the two begin to blur together and we’re left only with a sad sense of remembered forgetfulness. And in the end it’s the guilt of everything slipping away that holds on the longest. Maybe that’s why we need tombstones, because they’re cold and hard and heavy and they won’t drift away like the memories of conversations and jokes and the exact dimensions of the faces that have passed. In the end, we grieve knowing that we will forget and one day we too will be forgotten.