What I never expected is how much nothing there is afterwords. In life,, he was not nearby. Now he is everywhere I dream and every place I wake. Or if not him exactly, then a nothing so much like him I cannot seem to wish it goodnight.
Jim MooreEverything worth having can be carried in your heart.
Betina KrahnThere's solace in the thought that I will never finish missing her.
Jim CraceTag: loss missing-someone
Walk openly, Marian used to say. Love even the threat and the pain, feel yourself fully alive, cast a bold shadow, accept, accept. What we call evil is only a groping towards good, part of the trial and error by which we move toward the perfected consciousness…
God is kind? Life is good? Nature never did betray the heart that loved her? Why the reward she received for living intensely and generously and trying to die with dignity? Why the horror at the bridge her last clear sight of earth?...I do not accept, I am not reconciled. But one thing she did. She taught me the stupidity of the attempt to withdraw and be free of trouble and harm...
She said, “You wondered what was in whale’s milk. Now you know. Think of the force down there, just telling things to get born, just to be!”
I had had no answer for her then. Now I might have one. Yes, think of it, I might say. And think how random and indiscriminate it is, think how helplessly we must submit, think how impossible it is to control or direct it. Think how often beauty and delicacy and grace are choked out by weeds. Think how endless and dubious is the progress from weed to flower.
Even alive, she never convinced me with her advocacy of biological perfectionism. She never persuaded me to ignore, or look upon as merely hard pleasures, the evil that I felt in every blight and smut and pest in my garden- that I felt, for that matter, squatting like a toad on my own heart. Think of the force of life, yes, but think of the component of darkness in it. One of the things that’s in whale’s milk is the promise of pain and death.
And so? Admitting what is so obvious, what then? Would I wipe Marion Catlin out of my unperfected consciousness if I could? Would I forgo the pleasure of her company to escape the bleakness of her loss? Would I go back to my own formula, which was twilight sleep, to evade the pain she brought with her?
Not for a moment. And so even in the gnashing of my teeth, I acknowledge my conversion. It turns out to be for me as I once told her it would be for her daughter. I shall be richer all my life for this sorrow.
I stare at the pile of discarded remnants and think of my mother. Did she touch that pillar there? Does her scent still linger in a fragment of glass or a splinter of wood? A terrible emptiness settles into my chest. No matter how much I go about living, there are always small reminders that make the loss fresh again.
Libba BrayTag: loss bereavement
When you lose someone who's as close as your own skin, the only place you can find him again is hidden inside your memories.
Deborah BlumenthalVerily, a man should not cling to those who have passed, for he will likely neglect service to the living.
Wayne Gerard TrotmanTag: loss death service grief possessiveness grieving loss-of-love chi-ro-jin
Pain is pain...Just because one person's problem is less traumatic than another's doesn't mean they're required to hurt less.
J.A. RedmerskiTag: pain loss sadness hurt sad problems
For certain, neither of them sees a happy Present, as the gate opens and closes, and one goes in, and the other goes away.
Charles DickensTag: love loss melancholy sadness
I remember his eyes. They are just like mine. Every time I look in the mirror I see him. I try not to look at my self too much.
Ida LøkåsTag: love loss abandonment memories eyes fathers mirror missing-someone
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