Got me again

I have read Donald's Miller's new
book in a weekend. Easy. It is sort
of what happened after Blue Like
Jazz but lacks the depth I hoped he
would be revealing. It sort of skims
the idea of story and I want to talk to
him and say "You are in God's story
and God's story has a happy ending."
I'm almost done and maybe it will get
there. Anyways, this morning I read a
bit and here was this poem by W.H.
Auden:

"(she) was my North, my South, my East,
and West
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight , my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever:
I was wrong."

That was at a funeral of his agent's ( of his
speaking tours) wife. She went right into
the arms of Jesus. I cried. The Beauty
of Tragedy. ( title of the chapter.)