Today I look to Thich Nhat Hanh for advice on grief. He once said:

I hold my face in my two hands.
No, I am not crying.
I hold my face in my two hands
to keep the loneliness warm –
two hands protecting,
two hands nourishing,
two hands preventing
my soul from leaving
me in anger.

It’s been 21 years since my mom’s death and I found sanctuary in dealing with it in thought and meditation. Today seems harder than other years (I don’t know why; perhaps part of me is letting my attachment to my successes get the better of me, especially since she never recognized them when she was alive and she cannot do so now). Either way, Thich’s poem reminds me that death is part of life, even when it was a violent one).