The Sun will rise...
The sun will rise. It is the surest of all things. An entire planet will have to move to make it happen, but it does it. Every morning. Without fail.
With energy and angular momentum. Direction and magnitude conserved. Four hundred and sixty meters per second. A rock covered in water, hearts, heartbreaks, life, earth, and air will rotate over a million miles in a single day. In only twenty-four hours, a world of 6.6 sextillion tons will shift around the great distance of its own axis, forty-thousand kilometers of circumference, until the light reappears.
Like a miracle, like magic, like it's nothing.
With sanctity and certainty, it does it because it can. Because it must. Because it will. There's nothing strong enough to stop it. It refuses to be subdued.
"[T]here are those who think there is no way back from the catastrophic event", Nick Cave says. That the gravity of grief is too strong. That there is no way to escape it's pull. That the dark has made the Earth stand still. "That they will never laugh," never love, never hope, never feel comfort or warmth again. But, just as sure as the world will turn and the sun will shine, you can, you must, you will.