Bricks in our pockets

I saw the movie Rabbit Hole recently (which is not at all funny like I was mistakenly lead to believe by an interview on Oprah!), and in the film, two characters who have both lost their sons are talking about the possibility of the pain ever going away. 

Becca: Does it ever go away?
Nat: No, I don't think it does. Not for me, it hasn't - has gone on for eleven years. But it changes though.
Becca: How?
Nat: I don't know... the weight of it, I guess. At some point, it becomes bearable. It turns into something that you can crawl out from under and... carry around like a brick in your pocket. And you... you even forget it, for a while. But then you reach in for whatever reason and - there it is. Oh right, that. Which could be aweful - not all the time. It's kinda...
[deep breath]
Nat: not that you'd like it exactly, but it's what you've got instead of your son. So, you carry it around. And uh... it doesn't go away. Which is...
Becca: Which is what?
Nat: Fine, actually.

I think it's such a beautiful metaphor and so true. I've been carrying a brick in my pocket around this city since I moved here, but I guess it's better than carrying nothing at all.