Grief is a little like going blind.
Suddenly there is a very real part of this life that we cannot see. Suddenly we know that there is more than what we experience . . . and we stretch perception to its limits to comprehend the life that lies beyond this one. We try desperately to "see" our child. . . . loving with such an intensity that surely we can penetrate the thin barrier that lies between our heart and theirs.
Suddenly there is a very real part of this life that we cannot see. Suddenly we know that there is more than what we experience . . . and we stretch perception to its limits to comprehend the life that lies beyond this one. We try desperately to "see" our child. . . . loving with such an intensity that surely we can penetrate the thin barrier that lies between our heart and theirs.
So many times I have heard bereaved parents say they can "hear" the voice of their child or recognize the sounds of their steps in the hall. Our connection is so strong that nothing in our existence can really convince us that they are not close by.
The questions we ask have no easy answers, maybe no answers at all . . . but sometimes poets and authors can capture our imagination and ease the pain with their words. This quote from Thomas Wolfe does that for me. I hope it can for you.
Death is
to lose the earth you know, for greater knowing;
to lose the life you have, for greater life;
to leave the friends you loved, for greater loving;
to find a land more kind than home, more large than earth.
Thomas Wolfe
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