Tracy, my sister, left on Wednesday after five days here in Minneapolis. She continues to grieve horribly for her lost daughter. I say lost because I imagine my sister hopes that one day she will find her daughter. At the end of the toy aisle in the department store. In the car next to her at the stop light. In the park.
Grief is so very lonely. So personal. I want to go into my sister's world, to sit with her. She is a shell these days. A container that holds who she once was... before.
Her eyes reveal... a terror. Death is real. It comes at night. It takes the innocent. The weak. My sister cannot stop Death. It will come again. And again.
And again.
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3 comments:
Having someone close to you die, is an incredibly desolate experience. The death of a loved one is bitterly lonely. Something inside breaks and will never be the same again.
It is hard to stop weeping.
Parent to parent to parent, we sit alone, together.
Appreciate the words, Brett. I'm reminded of the film "What Dreams May Come;" of the scene where the woman is utterly alone in her "hell."
a very powerful post. just a little too close to history for me.
i once read somewhere about "...the desire to move beyond the life of the surface."
care to hear my story some time?
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