The following is an excerpt from the play Rabbit Hole (there was also a movie with Nicole Kidman based on the play - the movie was very forgettable, but the play is great). It's probably my favourite scene in the whole piece, mainly because of how brilliantly written it is. To give a small summary, it's just a conversation between two women (mother and daughter) describing what it's like to handle the death of a child in the family. Anyway, you may not think it's great, but man... it really is.
BECCA: This feeling. Does it ever go away?
NAT: No. I don’t think it does. Not for me, it hasn’t. It changes though.
BECCA: How?
NAT: I don’t know. The weight of it, I guess. At some point it becomes bearable. It turns into something you can crawl out from under. And carry around – like a brick in your pocket. And you forget it every once in awhile, but then you reach in for whatever reason and there is it: “Oh right. That.” Which can be awful. But not all the time. Sometimes it’s kinda… Not that you like it exactly, but it’s what you have instead of your son, so you don’t wanna let go of it either. So you carry it around. And it doesn’t go away, which is…
BECCA: What?
NAT: Fine… actually.