Resquiat in Pace

The bustle in a house
The morning after death
Is solemnest of industries
Enacted upon earth

The sweeping up the heart
And putting love away
We shall not want to use again
Until eternity

Emily Dickinson

I'm not sure that I agree with Em - the concept of "sweeping up the heart" is appropriate, there is a lot of cleaning up that has to be done at the end of a life; but the love is never put away, not the way that physical article of clothing and knick-knacks are boxed and stored, or disposed of. The love stays, although it undergoes a change.

The love has to be swept up, or tidied in that it becomes affected only by the survivor. There is no longer another side. But the love never goes away. It's always there, and sometimes becomes even more precious; it takes on a fragility or delicateness that bespeaks the loss of its other side. The robustness is not maintained without the interaction of the other half of the equation. But -- there is nothing like the bustle in the house after a death, as everyone tries to figure out what to do with the space that has been created by the loss. It takes some getting used to.