It's all very strange.
We lose those we love.
We go to work the next day.
People ask "how are you?"
How to answer?
Wear a sign?
Say anything?
Somehow continue.
Very few people know.
"How are you?"
Happy that pain is gone,
that spirit is lifted,
that finally there is peace.
"How are you?"
Relieved - there is some type of closure.
Sad at unfairness.
Sad for the family.
Sad for the girls whose mom cannot make everything better now.
"How are you?"
It all weaves together.
Only a few people know.
It is strange that so many people experience this all the time.
We all ask "how are you?" and how does anyone know how anyone really is?
Strange times.
One friend continued to lose all.
The other gained.
For one friend there was nothing to help.
For the other friend there was something new.
One was too weak to remain in this world.
The other began the next day physically stronger.
One "end."
One "beginning."
There is peace.
There is pause.
There are silent times.
There are joyous memories.
There is love.
"If these walls could talk; if these stairs could sing; if these floors could tell their tale, they'd say just one thing ...
What the world needs most right now is the best out of you and me."
She would want that.
Peace.
1 comment:
It is so sad when we lose a beloved friend, my heart goes out to you. As someone once said "what the caterpillar thinks is the end of life, the butterfly thinks is just the beginning. Death does not possess the finality that so many dread, there is something better waiting for us all. I love this poem:
I am standing on the seashore
A ship at my side spreads her white sails in the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.I stand and watch until at last she hangs like a speak of white cloud where the sun and sky come together to mingle with each other. Then someone at my side says
"there she goes!" gone where? from my sight that is all. She is just as large in mast and hull as when she left my side and just as able to bear her load of living freight to places of destination. Her diminished size is in me, not her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says "there she goes" there are other eyes watching her coming and other voices ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"
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