Picturing grief

I found Mark last night looking at old pictures on the computer. I asked him if it was hard for him to look at the pictures. He nodded with tears in his eyes. "Especially this one," he said and clicked on a picture of Ken leading him by the hand into the shallow water of June Lake on their annual fishing trip. I told him that it seemed like whenever I am feeling especially low I find myself replaying memories or drawn to looking at pictures. I know what I'm doing is probably going to make me feel even worse, but I can't seem to help myself. But maybe, I told him, that's the point. Maybe feeling so low every now and then is necessary. Maybe the grief gets stored up for so long and then finds a way to be released. I left Mark looking at the pictures and checked on him later. He had moved on to reading the comics online. The grief is still there, I know, but so are the pictures.