We live in a society that easily conforms to convention, especially when someone dies.

I'm struggling to untangle the complex emotions at the heart of a complicated grief. I realize that what I'm really feeling is empty.

This story of productivity, change, destruction, and rebuilding is a kind of metaphor for our lives as we grieve the death of one we love.

As I’ve continued the final clean-out of my mother’s house over the past week, I’ve gone again and again to the toolbox for a hammer, a screwdriver, or some other task-specific equipment. There’s a bit of deconstruction – pulling out wall hooks, taking apart beds, unscrewing a few things permanently installed – that are usually part of emptying a space. Every time I open the box and reach for one of my father’s tools I smile and think of his strong conviction that everyone should have “a little tool kit”.

When we grieve the death of one we love, whether we like it or not we're compelled to remodel our lives.

We're called to think and feel beyond the collective statistics of large-scale events of destruction with reverence for life and spiritual respect for the mystery of death.

No disappointment or betrayal in life has the same brute force, the crushing power to wound us as death.

This week as we again commemorate the events of 9/11/2001, many of us will pause to grieve the people and places and ideals that were lost to us on that horrible, fateful day.

As we grieve we spend a lot of thought energy seeking - but what is it we really expect to find?

One of the most puzzling aspects of grief is the ongoing challenge of seeking.

Grief is our finest, most enduring labor of love - we remember, we honor, we build our life anew for the future.

Grief is perhaps the least cerebral experience in all of life.