how to grieve

These letters have been lacking in matters practical.  For one thing, plenty of information on widowhood -- psychological, sociological, spiritual -- is available in books and on websites.  I've read a small library's worth, but to quote Thomas Merton: "How deluded we sometimes are by the clear notions we get out of books."  Grief obscures reason and feeling; clarity during these days is more often than not recognized by chance.

I offer a few ways of being that have been healing for me, with emphasis on what I have not found in books. 

1. Solitude:  Severed from life shared with another forces one to undertake a retreat that would challenge -- and perhaps baffle -- the most advanced Zen master (no life! no death! no desire!)  Everything in these days is about life lost and death won and desire unfulfilled.  Going out of my mind is not an option.  It is not playing at a religious game.  Solitude gives the razors freedom to cut as deep as necessary.  Solitude allows the bleeding to happen.
2. Relationships: Not an opposite of Solitude, but a compliment.  Friends have saved my life.  By feeding, listening, and occasional use of cattle prod.
3. Dreams: The stuff of the sleeping night, yes, and also the awake days.  In the first, horror and release; in the second, a possible future.  Dreams won't bring back the "real" Rich and cannot predict a "real" life, but in both is a sweet taste of what was and what might be.

Candace