stumbled upon this journal by mistake:http://www.janeyolen.com/journal.html

it's recent entries is about how the author is coping with the death of her husband. it made me teared as i read. the poem below by her is especially moving.

Sorry for Your Loss

I have not misplaced him--
like the wedding ring
he left behind at a ski lodge
six months after we married--
only set him aside
in a small grave
under a tree where robins sing.
They are thrushes, you know,
and their songs pierce,
especially at six in the morning
in the early spring.

I did not lose him,
except the smell of him,
already cleansed by chemicals,
flensed in the fire,
that reduced him to an essence
that can be blown into glass.
But the pillow that cradled
that dear head at the end
has the power to reduce me,
sunder me, render me,
into globules of fat tears.

I did not leave him behind,
but let him go ahead,
the pathfinder, map reader,
finding a shortcut
which always meandered
and led us to brilliant discoveries
like the last manned Scottish lighthouse
on the very last manned day.

I will follow, my love,
maybe not soon,
but soon enough
and you will have already
identified all the birds
and learned their songs,
in your new world,
ready to teach me
all the things I have to know.