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David Rossi: Did I ever tell you about my Uncle Sal? He liked to fix up old cars. When my Aunt Rosie died, he bought a 1947 Buick. Well, it was a piece of junk, really, but he was obsessed with it. He'd work on it day and night, forgetting to eat, until it was a thing of beauty. Then one day, it got stolen. When the cops found it, it had been completely vandalized. Uncle Sal was devastated. Never recovered. He died about a year later.Dr. Spencer Reid: I'm sorry about your uncle.David Rossi: I'm sorry about Maeve. So, how long has it been now? Four months?Dr. Spencer Reid: Three months and 15 days.David Rossi: That's why you're not sleeping. This can't go on.Dr. Spencer Reid: I realize that the socially acceptable amount of time to wallow in grief is coming to an end, and...David Rossi: That's not what I mean. You wallow as long as you need, but talk to someone.Dr. Spencer Reid: I feel like there are two types of people in this world, Rossi. The ones that get over their grief and move on, and the ones that descend into some sort of endless misery.David Rossi: I know how you feel. Give it time.Dr. Spencer Reid: How much time? I thought by coming to work every day and helping other people, the pain would lessen, but it hasn't.David Rossi: Compartmentalization works only so long. Don't be like Uncle Sal.Dr. Spencer Reid: You know that I remember every single word we ever said to each other?David Rossi: Finally, the downside to an eidetic memory. Listen, Spencer. If you want to feel better, you can't control the process. You have to let yourself grieve.Dr. Spencer Reid: I'm not sleeping because when I do, I dream of Maeve. And when I see her, I feel the sweetest relief imaginable. She always asks me to dance, but I can't because I don't know how to dance, and because I never even got to touch her when she was alive. I know if I give into that fantasy, I'll be lost forever, so I force myself to wake up. Is that part of normal healing?

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