The only things that were any use in stopping the runaway train of his internal commentary were video games. He played until his thumbs felt tender and raw. That discomfort was bearable but the more his thumbs hurt, the worse his performance. The resulting frustration destroyed his ability to concentrate and, thus, block out unwanted thoughts. He tried to read but the words swam before his eyes and he couldn’t grasp their meaning or sequence. His brain teaser book eluded him, too. Numbers and patterns shifted before he could focus in on them and draw conclusions. Then, he remembered that his mom always said, “When something’s bothering you, Freddy, it helps to talk to somebody about it.” That memory nearly made him cry out in pain. Instead, he swallowed hard, took his mother’s advice and sought out his grandmother. She was all smiles and tried to make him laugh. When he pressed for serious conversation, she said, “Grief is a personal matter, Frederick. We do not inflict it upon others.
