I feel anticipatory grief. Something I love is ending — not yet, but surely — and I am holding it as hard as I can while I still can.

I feel anticipatory grief. The loss has not arrived but I can see it coming and a part of me is already there.

I feel anticipatory grief. I am caring for this thing in a way that is also preparing to let go of it.

I feel anticipatory grief. Time has become precious and sharp because I can see the end of it.

I feel anticipatory grief. The present is tender because it will soon be the past.
