Death stalks all of us. I remember when I was 8, living at home in my extended family when my grandpa died. My mother demanded that I go up the street and hang out with a friend and her family. When I came home grandpa was gone. Home was quiet that night, the TV was off, and my grandma was crying softly. Since that time I have said goodbye to dogs and cats, grandparents and parents, friends and enlightened teachers.
I would like to say it gets easier, but that would not be true. Perhaps, as I age, it gets more familiar, more expected. In some ways it is harder to watch close friends and family die, because we have been together in this life for so long.
We all say goodbye in our own way. Grieving is not always about tears and mournful wails, some times it is about a quiet sadness and a longing that aches. Sometimes it is about writing a letter that cannot be sent. Sometimes it is about a talk with a friend who is still in the body. Sometimes it is peaceful and still, and in those moments when everything is one, there is only love.