Hey I made it/I’m the world’s greatest
—R. Kelly, “The World’s Greatest”

Surround yourself with people or no one.
Play music loud or low or allow too much
silence to level you.
Weep, laugh.
Contemplate your place in the cosmos.
Eat, don’t eat, neglect the housework.
Let yourself go.
Get drunk or never touch the stuff again.
Love harder than before. 
Vow to never love anyone so, ever again.
Sleep.
Dream, even if they are fitful dreams
of a face you used to know.
Excuse yourself.
Blame grief.
Grieve too publicly, too long, or don’t
show you’ve even noticed
an absence.
Sure, buy your milk and your meat.
Do the laundry as usual.
Be extreme.
Turn a table over.
Get a tattoo.
Dig out old photos.
Keep or sell or donate their things.
Light a candle.
Light a candle for every day they’re gone.
Build monuments, fund foundations,
pave roads in their name.
Keep or sell or donate their things.
Forget about how you came
to know them altogether.
Send flowers.
Send a card.
Prepare a meal in memoriam.
Show up when you’re supposed to
and say the right things or say nothing.
Whatever you do, choose
as they chose—move
onward
until you’ve made it.