Derek: Hey.
Meredith: Hey.
Derek: Need to go home?
Meredith: No.
Derek: Did you eat?
Meredith: No.
Derek: Can you eat?
Meredith: No.
Derek: You should cry.
Meredith: No.
Derek: Maybe if you cry you'll feel better.
Meredith: I... you just... just you being here is... and don't say anything. Just be here. That... that helps. How are you?
Alex: Meredith, we need you.
Meredith: Okay, excuse me.

(Izzie and Alex walk in on the Meredith and Derek,who are having sex on the stairs)
Alex: Whoa.
Izzie: Oh my god Derek!
Derek: Hey, Hi!
Alex: Dude, get a room!
Izzie: On the stairs? Doesn't that hurt?
Meredith: Leave us alone, we're newly weds.
Izzie: A post it wedding does not make you newlyweds.
Derek: You know what... you're newlyweds too. You need your own space.
Alex: Dude, what are these?
Derek: Key's to my trailer, your new home. Enjoy.

(Lexie walks  in on the Meredith and Derek, having sex in the kitchen)
Derek: Oh God!
Lexie: Sorry! Sorry!
Derek: Just... Sorry... We're sorry...
Meredith: Sorry!
Derek: We'll be sure to clean the counter top.
Lexie: Oh... I... You didn't use to do this before, and now it's kinda all the time, everywhere... and I...
Derek: Well, you know it's... we're married now. Things are changed a little but... Sorry about the counter top.
Lexie: Hmm... aaah... Umm, so you guys are... really, that's it? The post-it? That's for real?
Derek: Yeah, that's for real.

Arizona: I heard that you got married, so, congratulations!
Derek: Yes, thank you.
Alex: Ha, he wrote some hokey crap on a post-it note in the residents lounge. Sorry, but until you're sweating it out in a morning coat with a ball of white taffeta coming at you, you're not really married!
Derek: Oh, I consummated mine. I consummate mine all the time. How's that going for you Karev? Girls talk. You might wanna consider that the next time you judge my post-it.

According to Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, when we're dying or have suffered a catastrophic loss, we all move through five distinct stages of grief. We go into denial because the loss is so unthinkable we can't imagine it's true. We become angry with everyone, angry with survivors, angry with ourselves. Then we bargain. We beg. We plead. We offer everything we have, we offer our souls in exchange for just one more day. When the bargaining has failed and the anger is too hard to maintain, we fall into depression, despair, until finally we have to accept that we've done everything we can. We let go. We let go and move into acceptance.

In medical school, we have a hundred lessons that teach us how to fight off death, and not one lesson on how to go on living.

The dictionary defines grief as key mental suffering or distress over affliction or loss. Sharp sorrow, painful regret. As surgeons, as scientists, we're taught to learn from and rely on books. On definitions, on definitives. But in life, strict definitions rarely apply. In life, grief can look like a lot of things that bare little resemblance to sharp sorrow.

Lexie, Mark, Alex, Izzie, Derek, Bailey, Owen, Meredith, Arizona, Callie, Richard: Grief may be a thing that we all have in common, but it looks different on everyone. It isn't just death we have to grief. It's life, it's loss. It's change. And when we wonder why it has to suck so much sometimes, has to hurt so bad, the thing we gotta try to remember is that it can turn on a dime. That's how you stay alive. When it hurt so much you can't breathe, that's how you survive. By remembering that one day, somehow, impossibly, you won't feel this way. It won't hurt this much. Grief comes in it's own time for everyone, in it's own way. So the best we can do, the best anyone can do, is try for honesty. The really crappy thing, the very worst part of grief, is that you can't control it. The best we can do is try to let ourselves feel it, when it comes. And let it go when we can. The very worst part is that the minute you think you've passed it, it starts all over again.
There are five stages of grief. They look different on all of us. But there are always five: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.