So I've become kind of a connoisseur of books on grief these days. I never knew how plentiful they are, and I work in a bookstore.
One that has really meant a lot to me is "Lament for a Son," written by Nicholas Wolterstorff. It's a little book that has his short reflections after the death of his son at age 25 in a mountain climbing accident. Wolterstorff has given words to my pain. If you're home for Thanksgiving and have some free time, you should grab you a copy.
Here's something from it...
"Someone said to Claire, 'I hope you're learning to live at peace with Eric's death.'
Peace, shalom, salaam. Shalom is the fullness of life in all dimensions. Shalom is dwelling in justice and delight with God, with neighbor, with oneself, in nature. Death is shalom's mortal enemy. Death is demonic. We cannot live at peace with death.
When the writer of Revelation spoke of the coming of the day of shalom, he did not say that on that day we would live at peace with death. He said that on that day 'There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.'
I shall try to keep the wound from healing, in recognition of our living still in the old order of things. I shall try to keep it from healing, in solidarity with those who sit beside me on humanity's mourning bench."