I surrendered control for this trip in a way I haven’t done in years. That I didn’t know what to expect is, at best, an understatement. By the time I stepped into my room with the summer Italian sun blazing in the window, luggage at my feet, and jet-lagged after a 16-hour journey I began to question what in the hell I had gotten myself into. Who had I just surrendered to and what exactly was I surrendering for? Over the next four days, I learned that the answers to these questions were as complex and varied as grief as itself.
