Dying from grief. Now that I'm fully acquainted with the despicable bottom that is grief. I see how romantic the notion is that one can die from the feeling. You feel so low and empty, as if you've finally reached the worst of all possible emotional pain, that the next increment of downward thrust must lead to death.

Imagine scales where one side (The one you're on) is microscopically above the table. One feather dropped on the other side, and you've hit absolute bottom. Therapists say, "once you've bottomed out, you realize the only place to go is up." Incorrect. Once you've bottomed out, you're dead.

That's why it's romantic to believe you can die from grief--where the loss of a loved one is so terrible that it causes the loss of your life. Or, like Romeo and Juliet, the supposed loss of one becomes unbearable and causes the other to commit suicide. There are folkish stories circulating of dogs who, once their owner died, refused to eat and waited in the owner's favorite room until he himself died. Or couples of multiple decades dying from heartache after the partner passed away first.

This is most certainly not far from complete malarky. Since people can suffer indefinately, the heart can ache more than poetry and prose can express, but the beating goes on.