Yesterday while driving down to Vine yard Haven I tuned into one of my favorite NPR radio talk shows. Tom Ashbrook’s topic was grief, grieving and comeback. His guests were a renowned rabbi and a therapist who specializes in loss. Tom‘s wife died two months ago and when he describes his marriage, it’s storybook. He asks us, the listeners, to call in and share our experiences, but most of all he’s looking for a road map to heal. He wants advice to help him negotiate his pain.

I’m an expert on grief. I’ll call in, I think.

The rabbi says it’s not over until it’s over. I begin sort of rehearsing what I will say if I do get on. Tom, I’m so moved by the fact that you would tell your own story and be so vulnerable live on the air! You, who are supposed to be the host, and here you are being a person.

One woman calls in and says you’re lucky your relationship was so beautiful. Most people never find that kind of love.

Tom says, yes, but it’s gone.

Another woman calls and says, you’re linked forever. You’ll always be linked just in a different form.

But she’s not here, Tom says.

These are not road maps. They are like saying, I know just how you feel. Or you’ll get over it in time. Or she’s in a better place.

I’ve entered West Tisbury and I’m dialing on my cell phone. The line is busy. I’ve already scrapped what I had planned to say. Now I don’t know what words to use but I know they will come, my being the expert and all.

Then the rabbi says touch. That’s what people need. To be touched. He shares a story about the wise man in the village who goes to the home of someone who has just lost her baby. The wise man sits in the corner and says nothing. After about an hour he gets up and hugs the young mother and he leaves. There it is. That was as good advice as anything I could have come up with. I guess I don’t need to call.

But then the psychologist says men have trouble letting out their emotions. She talks about how many male and even some female clients she has who can’t cry. And now again I want to call and tell him to sob. I will tell him there are toxins in tears. So cry it out Tom, I will say. Cry, sob, wail, pound the dashboard of your car, get on all fours on the floor and scream why. It’s not exactly what I did when I lost my son but it’s good sound advice for Tom.

Yup, I think I better call.

Then the rabbi says people go into shock. Some people feel nothing.

Even though my son Dan was sick for so long and I knew he was going to die I never ever ever ever ever ever really believed it. So when it actually happened I went numb. And now for the first time here on the radio I am hearing a description of me.

No, I will not call. I have no words. I don’t know how anyone feels. He’s not in a better place. Everyone grieves differently. I am no expert. And the rabbi’s right. It’s not over until it’s over.

Nancy Slonim Aronie is the author of Writing from the Heart. She is a commentator for National Public Radio’s All Things Considered and founder of the Chilmark Writing Workshop.