Grief - keen mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow; painful regret.
Joy is the antonym. Quite fitting, seeing as it's this particular joyous season and all.
But this grief is a quiet grief. A rupture of words and a landslide of confessions (and, uh, a tsunami of sorries? perhaps a tsunami of words beginning with silent Ts?) that strangely and perhaps contradictorily resulted in extreme gentleness and exposed hearts the next morning. There is a time for the craft of wall building, but now is not that time. Now is the time for taking a sledgehammer to the slowly built walls; the hollowness behind the Sheetrock will be okay. It is okay. It makes the tearing down process easier and the excitement of furnishing foreseeable.
I use a lot of abstract language. It kind of gets on my nerves. Anyway.
Behind these walls are chambers, waiting.