Thankfully the theory of rigidly defined "stages of grief," helpful as it was when the study of bereavement was in its infancy, has long since been discarded for a more accurate understanding of what is probably called somewhere the spiral(s) of grief.
Last night, trying to understand my experience of the past couple of days, I tried to subject it to some cold, quantitative analysis. I realized that the terrible, huge, and seemingly unpredictable waves of sorrow that wash over me occur with some regularity, probably every hour or so. I can be doing anything ~ sitting in class, engaged in conversation, eating with friends, folding laundry ~ and suddenly I am completely overwhelmed by a tidal wave of anguish. I would guess that most of the time no one in the my vicinity has any idea. I suppose there are those who notice that I am quieter than usual, but they don't know that I am wondering whether I will survive to the next minute.
Musical Friend, whose husband died nine months ago, says she is just sick and tired of how she feels. I agree with her on occasion, but most of the time I'm not far enough into it yet to see out of it.