". . . Blessed are ye," insomuch as the consciousness of good, grace, and peace, comes through affliction rightly understood, as sanctified by the purification it brings to the flesh,— to pride, self-ignorance, self-will, self-love, self-justification.
Mary Baker Eddy
Miscellaneous Writings, pp. 8-9.
The anguish of grief is not something we seek. But when someone we dearly love is separated from us, our mourning can include a period of spiritual travail from which a deeper and more permanent awareness of divine Love's ever-presence—and of Love's imperative demands upon us—is realized and experienced. If we are grieving, what needs healing is the sense of separation that causes us to mourn. When that sense is finally and utterly exposed as an imposition, we'll understand and experience our invulnerable unity with our divine source. Then, "there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain."
Rev. 21:4.
Mourning is often an extreme sensitivity to the claim that separation is real. Much of human existence, darkened by the carnal mind's ignorance of and enmity toward man's spiritual unity with his divine source, presents fractured lives and values. Frequently we're relatively insensitive to this display; and, if we're made uneasy by it, we excuse ourselves on the basis that the challenge is too big to comprehend, let alone heal. Even in our individual experience, the separations that appear to disrupt harmony are usually so small in scope and so frequent in number that we tend to let them go unchallenged.
