Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I noticed this morning that seeing a photo of my daughter who died is so painful that I have to push through the urge not to look.  I feel confused, because in the photos she is alive, and it's reassuring, but when I think of her gone, I cannot comprehend this fact.  I have the image of her dead in my mind, but I have forty nine years of her lively, vivacious force imprinted fully as well.  When I was listening to Anam Thubten's dharma talk today, and he talked about not rejecting strong, disturbing emotions, tears came to my eyes.  I am grieving, and resisting grieving, because I feel my daughter as alive.  This is a blessing and yet disturbing.  I am suffering, but also consoled.  My heart is full of her, but darkened.  The loss is too great to accept.  I protest.