The Death of a loved one is sure to bring you into lurid ruin, and why shouldn't it. You don't know how to love the one you love until they disappear abruptly.
The Death of a loved one is not the death of love. Love doesn't need the physical presence of a person. Even when he is dead and buried that part of you that loves the person will always live.
The Death of a loved one is difficult. After a person dies, there is always something like a feeling of stupefaction, so difficult is it to comprehend this unexpected advent of nothingness and to resign oneself to believing it.
The Death of a loved one is to be confronted with the husk of space the loved one once occupied in a way that strikes us blind; just as an empty space would blind you if you if an object were utterly removed from the space it occupied. With the object no longer being there to fill our sight, its psychic death would flood the place from which the carcass disappeared.
The Death of a loved one is difficult. Once one has kissed a cadaver's forehead, there always remains something of it on the lips, an infinite bitterness, an aftertasteof nothingness that nothing can erase.