With time, the waves of sadness caused by loss are less frequent. Or at least, as a friend told me recently, we eventually accept that grief may not leave us altogether, a sign of all the love it represents, but it can cohabitate with the joy of memories. More recently, in September 2020, Vanity Fair published an article by Jesmin Ward titled On Witness and Respair: A Personal Tragedy Followed by Pandemic. It is a keen account of Ward losing her husband in which she also talks about how the BLM Movement brought life to her in the desperate times of grief, “…as protesters chanted and stomped, as they grimaced and shouted and groaned, tears burned my eyes. They glazed my face.” Eventually, the corners of the house we sometimes see with eyes from the past remind us of happy times and precious moments. Eventually, as Maggie Smith says, we keep moving.