I didn't see it coming. "I would prefer that we not talk about him when we are together." Had this stinger been delivered by a casual friend, perhaps I could have questioned the emotional quotient of the sender, but not this individual, so adored and cherished by Rob.
How do I not talk about my best friend? It's as natural as the breaths I take. 
I could feel my heart plunging into a tailspin. Does everyone feel this way? Do I make them feel that uncomfortable? Are they rolling their eyes in disgust...or worse, pity? 
Those were the easy questions!  More devastatingly, I thought: Is Rob fading from the hearts of those he greatly loved?  Here yesterday, gone tomorrow? Are we that insignificant; if so, why even work at leaving a footprint?
Perhaps this is the wake-up call I need to hear: let him go.  Just stop breathing him in and out.
But I'm afraid I might stop living if I have to bury him any deeper.
The rational side assures me this is dysfunctional grief, the 'don't mention him and it won't hurt so much' kind that re-surfaces later down the road. The dangerous grief that eats away at us bit by bit. But is it rational for grief or the memory of a person to remain so alive? 
All I know is Rob died again tonight and grief sucks any life out of me. Maybe I'll never escape this emotional quicksand; maybe if I just bury deeper, no one will make such a request again.