Comfort? comfort scorn'd of devils! this is truth the poet sings, That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.

I remember one that perish'd: sweetly did she speak and move: Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was to love.

Like a dog, he hunts in dreams, and thou art staring at the wall, Where the dying night-lamp flickers, and the shadows rise and fall.

Never, tho' my mortal summers to such length of years should come As the many-winter'd crow that leads the clanging rookery home.

Widows tend either to fade away when husbands die, committing emotional suttee, or else find that a new life burgeons. Here in Christchurch, a lot of burgeonin…

Accept loss forever

A person likes to think of himself in a certain way, and when something happens that makes that no longer possible, you mourn the old self. The person you thou…