My reply, the very reason you are asking. It attracts attention for people to ask. It's like wearing an invitation, "Come on, ask."
My baby son Andrew died 24 years ago. Since I published my book in 2003, I got involved with SANDS.
I tell them it is OK to cry.
Today is the birthday of my late sis-in-law, Karen. It is her first birthday in Heaven. I remember this photo was taken when I went to Australia to attend her funeral.
She used to tell me bereavement is liken to a cracked mirror, even when it is fixed it will never be the same again.
But today, she is looking over me and sent me this telling me, the bowl can be beautiful despite the cracks.
Kintsugi (金継ぎ?) (Japanese: golden joinery) or Kintsukuroi (金繕い?) (Japanese: golden repair) is the Japanese art of fixing broken pottery with lacquer resin dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. As a philosophy it’s about breakage and repair becoming part of the story of an object, rather than being something you need to disguise. (Wikipedia)
In mid-1500 Japan for that a bowl that was much admired and cherished by a military leader was accidentally broken by a servant. Everyone feared what might happen but the leader had the 5 broken pieces put together again. Instead of the break "…diminishing the bowl's appeal, a new sense of its vitality and resilience raised appreciation to even greater heights." The bowl had become more beautiful for having been broken. The true life of the bowl "…began the moment it was dropped…" (From The Aesthetics of Mended Japanese Ceramics Exhibition handbook)
In Japan, cracks in precious bowls are often filled with gold. Today, still, many Japanese believe when something has been damaged and has a history, it is even more beautiful. Repaired bowls can be been treasured by many generations.
Can this teach us anything about the healing and 'repairing' of grief?