I just finished reading a novel about a man whose life transversed the 20th century.
It was an old-school novel, built on character and the sweep of history around his life.
Alone at the end, after burying his dog, he says: "the love in my life has gone... it was an uncomplicated traffic of love in my life, and now it's gone", and he characterizes grief as self pity.
True grief for me is ennobling, acknowledging the soul of the departed, their true essence and spirit.
It can't help but raise me up to the level of my truth as well, and from there - only good things are possible.