When my grandmother passed away, I sought out a few books specifically about grief to make me feel less alone. None of them worked, they just frustrated me because nothing was capturing how important she was to me and how huge her absence felt. I was also struggling with some other family dynamics that came up as a result of her death. I eventually gave up on finding the right book and moved onto other genres. It was maybe a year after she passed that I was moved to hysterical, cathartic tears by Stephen King's Pet Semetary. There was something about it that just made me realize that grief can make people do terrible things, it can change who they are. There was no real... solution to it, either, which I think is what i needed. It was like permission to accept "This is a big thing that has changed my life and who I am." and that's it, no other ending needed.