Sorrow often feels like something that emanates from our core, pressing up against our skin. But in Robyn O’Neil’s dramatic imagining, sorrow is an inverted ocean hanging over us. A sticky darkness, impassive and impassable, its tentacles cannot be avoided. There’s no stiff-upper-lipping this one, no brave-facing this desolation. But—what is wrong with surrendering to grief for a time? Living fully means laughing all of our laughter and, yes, weeping all of our tears. It’s terrifying to think we’ll never get to the other side of sorrow, the wispy clouds of gentle, clearer skies. But we do, every time.

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