When my grandmother died, paperwork arrived before grief. Accounts to close, forms to sign, questions asked in calm voices. The clerk called me efficient. I nodded and kept answering. Business taught me how to stand upright while hollow. I handled logistics before I could touch memory. Only later did the weight arrive, slow and crushing. This word belongs to those who did what had to be done while their hearts were elsewhere. Owning it honors the quiet strength of functioning when feeling would have stopped everything.