Two excerpts from Gifts, a novel by Ursula K. Le Guin (Harcourt, 2004)
My father was gone from daybreak to evening every day at the work of the domain. I had begun to be of use to him, but was useless now. Alloc took my place at his side. Alloc was a clear-hearted man, without ambitions or pretensions; he thought of himself as stupid, and some people agreed with him, but though slow to think, he often grasped an idea without thinking about it, and his judgement was usually sound. He and [my father] worked together, and he was what I could not be. I was both jealous and envious of him. I had the self-respect not to show it; for it would have hurt Alloc, angered my father, and done me no good.
. . . . . . . .
Grieving, like being blind, is a strange business; you have to learn how to do it. We seek company in mourning, but after the early burst of tears, after the praises have been spoken, and the good days remembered, and the lament cried, and the grave closed, there is no company in grief. It is a burden borne alone. How you bear it is up to you.
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