But it requires pain, bewailing, listening, and our agony cannot be managed into a box. It also needs the unbound therapy of grief, which is as personal and multifaceted as the way people die and when they die. Meanwhile, we, their survivors, also cope with the tyranny of mortality—the prevailing sadness of human life.
The only constant is that we all die. While we are living and dealing with the dead, we cannot be administered by a rote formula; there is no such thing. That would be the equivalent of asserting that every person who has died was not utterly unique, or that we each contemplate and fear death identically. There must be safety valves laid into the religious constructions or we shall be further afflicted by the harsh realism of someone’s death rather than grow with the experience.
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