“Grief is like a long and winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape….Sometimes the surprise is the opposite one; you are presented with exactly the same sort of country you thought you left behind miles ago.  That is when you wonder whether the valley isn’t a circular trench.  But it isn’t.  There are partial recurrences but the sequence doesn’t repeat.” 

From C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed, speaking on the death of his wife

There is a new lamb cradled on They breast tonight,

A sweet small lamb, so lately mine

I scarce can keep my arms from reaching out

As though to snatch her back from Thine.

These arems of mine are wonted so to her, dear Lord,

They curved about her little form

So sweetly, and from dawn of time my breast was meant

To be her pillow, soft and warm.

What does one do with aching arms and empty hours,

With silent rooms, and dragging days?

The things I knew before will not avail me now-

Teach me new lessons and new ways.

Take Thou, I pray, these idle folded hands of mine

Which can no longer busied be

With dear, familiar tasks for her....In mercy, Lord,

Fill hands and heart with tasks for Thee!

                                                       By Martha Snell Nicholson