When I was little, my dad would read me a picture book called This Too Shall Pass. Whenever I was upset he would tell me this too shall pass. Scraped my knee? This too shall pass. Bad grade? This too shall pass. Crying because I was being bullied? This too shall pass. He passed away when I was 16. Next week will be seven years without him. Even though he’s been gone for so long now, I still say to myself “this too shall pass.” And it does. And it will.