janbear
07-05-2006, 10:51 AM
When we are drawn into the brotherhood or sisterhood of loss, tenderness seems to be our natural state. We are so vulnerable. Everything brushes against the raw wound of our grief, reminding us of what we have lost, triggering memories-a tilt of the head, a laugh, a way of walking, a touch, a particular conversation. These images are like beads strung together on the necklace of loss. Tenderly, we turn them again and again. We cannot bear them. We cannot let them go.
Then, gradually bit by bit, the binding thread of grief somehow transmutes, reconstitutes itself as a thread of treasured memories-a tilt of the head, a laugh, a way of walking, a touch, a particular conversation as gifts from the life we shared with the one we have lost, gifts than can never be taken away.
"May I honor-and trust-the processes of grief and of healing, knowing that, in time, a new day will come."
Martha Whitmore Hickman
Then, gradually bit by bit, the binding thread of grief somehow transmutes, reconstitutes itself as a thread of treasured memories-a tilt of the head, a laugh, a way of walking, a touch, a particular conversation as gifts from the life we shared with the one we have lost, gifts than can never be taken away.
"May I honor-and trust-the processes of grief and of healing, knowing that, in time, a new day will come."
Martha Whitmore Hickman