A story from the old commentaries tells of Kisa Gotami (say "kee-sah goh-tuh-mee"), whose small son dies. She can't accept it and carries him from door to door asking for medicine until she is sent to the Buddha. He asks her to bring a pinch of white mustard seed from a house where no son, daughter, or anyone else has died. Every house has mustard seed. Every house has had a death. By evening she understands, lays the child down in the forest, and returns to the Buddha. The walk doesn't make her loss smaller, and it doesn't ask her to cheer up; it shows her that this terrible house isn't sealed off from the village. When you're carrying something alone, every other door can look shut. This morning, let one trusted person know what you're carrying, so one other door on the street can open.