Disappearing into Grief

Where is it that we go after someone dies? The people you meet often seem to think that you, the bereaved, have disappeared into some black hole. In there, all is darkness, misery and depression. After a period of months or years, you come back, all your grieving done, to take
your place once again in the land of the living, that is, in everyday life.
I agree that some people seem to be consumed by that dark star in total grief. But I suspect that for most, the experience entails a range of feeling and experience, some highs and inevitable lows.
In a conversation yesterday with a friend whose son died from cancer about ten years ago aged twentyone, he and I agreed on this. He said:

Life goes on. Happy events and everyday events
are mingled in with the sadness

.
In my case, some of the richest experiences of my life came during the first months after Maeve died. In the film, the moment when I place by the pond the box containing Maeve's ashes, I pause for a minute or two. The air is filled with silence and the attentive awareness of the adults and children. I feel then a moment of deepest peace in myself, something I might describe as a spiritual experience or at least, something close to a spiritual eperience.
In the first week after Maeve died, gathered with Robyn's and my family at Alexandra Headlands while waiting for the autopsy, we shared a deep sense of closeness and mutual support. We laughed as well as cried, remembering stories about Maeve and other times we had shared. Pluto, the lord of death, is also the lord of riches. Within the grief, we found riches in ourselves and in one another.