I hate the Boston Red Sox.
Like, a lot.
So much so that it takes a Herculean effort of will not to automatically swipe left on an otherwise seemingly lovely woman who happens to be wearing a Sox hat in one of her profile pics. We’re from two separate worlds—it would never work.
Twelve years ago, the Red Sox finally bested the Curse of the Babe, winning their first World Series since 1918. On their way to that 2004 World Series, Boston came back from a three-games-to-none deficit to win the American League Championship Series. Coming back from 3-0 to win a series literally had never been done in Major League Baseball history.
And the team they did it against? My beloved New York Yankees.
How I felt after the Yanks blew that lead and lost the series, combined with the feeling once the Sox went on to sweep the World Series and accomplish something I truly believed might never happen during my lifetime—that’s sort of how I feel today on the heels of Donald Trump’s election victory.
Clearly the impact pales in comparison; we’re talking about a national election with immensely significant societal, legislative, and judicial ramifications—not a baseball game. But as someone who experiences some of my deepest feels through sports, the dumbfounded shock I experienced then is comparable to what I face now.
Back in 2004, after suffering through the boasts and taunts of insufferable Red Sox fans, all I could do was say, “Congrats. Well done.” They won. They deserved it. I wasn’t happy about it, but good for them. And their fans? These are my friends. Having grown up in Eastern Connecticut, these are a lot of my friends.
For those of us who played youth sports and high school or college ball, it’s the “good game, good game, nice game, good game” high-fives with the opposing team after a tough loss—though there was always the one kid I conveniently forgot to high-five because he had been an asshole during the game.
Again, these are just games.
But they still hurt. For die-hard sports fans, tough losses always hurt. Sometimes they feel soul-crushing.
That’s what this election feels like.
So what’s next? For the Yankees, you retool the roster and look forward to spring training. For little league pitchers, you go home, have a grilled cheese, do your homework, and work on your pitch location.
For Hillary Clinton supporters, it’s much the same. You examine what went wrong Tuesday, how you managed not to connect to such a huge portion of the population—your fellow citizens, whose anger with government isn’t trivial—and what needs to be done locally and nationally to help you more effectively advocate for the issues most important to you.
In other words, you retool, take care of yourself, do your homework, and practice for next time.
But for today, as the other side celebrates, all there is to do as you try to maintain your sanity is say, “Congrats. Well done. Good game.”
But you can skip the high-five.
Wiman hiding her face behind a bunch of cashCanva
A mansion and its reflection in the swimming poolCanva
Salzburg at nightCanva
Fancy homeCanva
Happy volunteersCanva
Parents of young children get more time with them if they work from home.Photo credit: Canva
Grieving couple comforting each other
This response to someone grieving a friend might be the best internet comment ever
When someone is hit with the sudden loss of a friend or loved one, words rarely feel like enough. Yet, more than a decade ago, a wise Redditor named GSnow shared thoughts so profound they still bring comfort to grieving hearts today.
Originally posted around 2011, the now-famous reply was rediscovered when Upvoted, an official Reddit publication, featured it again to remind everyone of its enduring truth. It began as a simple plea for help: “My friend just died. I don't know what to do.”
What followed was a piece of writing that many consider one of the internet’s best comments of all time. It remains shared across social media, grief forums, and personal messages to this day because its honesty and metaphor speak to the raw reality of loss and the slow, irregular path toward healing.
Below is GSnow’s full reply, unchanged, in all its gentle, wave-crashing beauty:
Why this advice still matters
Mental health professionals and grief counselors often describe bereavement in stages or phases, but GSnow’s “wave theory” gives an image more relatable for many. Rather than a linear process, grief surges and retreats—sometimes triggered by a song, a place, or a simple morning cup of coffee.
In recent years, this metaphor has found renewed relevance. Communities on Reddit, TikTok, and grief support groups frequently reshare it to help explain the unpredictable nature of mourning.
Many readers say this analogy helps them feel less alone, giving them permission to ride each wave of grief rather than fight it.
Finding comfort in shared wisdom
Since this comment first surfaced, countless people have posted their own stories underneath it, thanking GSnow and passing the words to others facing fresh heartbreak. It’s proof that sometimes, the internet can feel like a global support group—strangers linked by shared loss and hope.
For those searching for more support today, organizations like The Dougy Center, GriefShare, and local bereavement groups offer compassionate resources. If you or someone you know is struggling with intense grief, please reach out to mental health professionals who can help navigate these deep waters.
When grief comes crashing like the ocean, remember these words—and hang on. There is life between the waves.
This article originally appeared four years ago.