Friday, August 06, 2004

My friend Robin lost her father recently, and now that the formalities are over, the sadness is that much harder to deal with.

Why is it that returning to our daily life makes it harder rather than easier? I am thinking it is because there is no longer a locus on which to center the grief. Where in our daily lives do we find space to squeeze in our attention to that which isn't present but which is all present? Grief seems to consume the very breathe in our cells. The light is dimmer, the sounds are muffled, and we walk around wondering what matters in proximity to this overpowering presence.

I wish I could shower her in soft gentle notes, warmth and healing, restore some of her joy, but for now I wish you would take her into your thoughts, in prayer or in a walk or in a lighted candle, help me lift her spirits. When my mom died, I shared this poem with those that came to the memorial services.

"The love of the human heart is the most real and the most beautiful
Of all the realities we know
It is the richest gift of our manhood and womanhood.
It is the bond that joins us together as lovers, as husband and wife
As father and mother, as parent and child,
And as friends and neighbors.
Whatever the length of time may be,
To have known something of this
Is to have experienced the supreme privilege of being human.
The anguish of parting cannot destroy this most real of all realities.
The love has been,
The affection has existed,
The ties have been woven.
Life has been shared, the joys and the sorrows.
This is as real and strong as anything we know."
-John Lovejoy Elliott

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