I learned today of the death of a friend. Even though we hadn’t seen each other or even spoken in years, I still considered him a friend. Over the years, we were there for one another when things were falling apart in various sectors of our lives. It has saddened me. Saddened me because we hadn’t spoken in years. As I reach a certain age, I will lose more friends, just as these days, the world loses singers and actors that were icons of my teens and twenties. I love my friends and family, even if I don’t often communicate. And when they die, whether it’s sudden or slow, it’s always too soon. I am left with memories – good, funny, random, bittersweet. And never enough.
My wedding this summer brought me back to some of these people who are closest to my heart, and for that I amforever blessed.
It feels like it has been a year of passings for my friends, and we are not even a month in, and that makes me wonder. Why? Why did pneumonia steal away the larger-than-life man with the larger-than-life heart, whose loss has devastated one of my beloved friends? Why is another of my darlings, who so recently defied death herself, now faced with the slow, tender, painful, spiral of her mother’s passing? Why is a new daughter faced with the light of her grandmother suddenly extinguished?
I keep asking why, and there is no answer.
There is no way to take away the pain of loss. It does fade, gradually, like a well-loved shirt, laundered and worn until it comes apart at the seams and transforms into something different, or gets tucked in a drawer to stir memories when you catch sight of it as you’re looking for something else. But it is always there. Pain of loss transforms us in ways we cannot understand. I would hope it makes us kinder, gentler souls, who handle other souls with greater care, but I don’t know if that’s always so. The pain reshapes us inside, and we are never quite the same person as before, even if we think we are.
We are all treasures in process, I suppose.
Quote of the day (and one quoted before): “You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.” — Anne Lamott
Daily gratitudes:
Memories
MKL, always
Kelsea
The mystery of life
Walking
7 comments
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January 27, 2016 at 7:10 am
tellmeastorymick
Beautiful, my friend…
“Without suffering, there’s no happiness. So we shouldn’t discriminate against the mud. We have to learn how to embrace and cradle our own suffering and the suffering of the world, with a lot of tenderness.”
-Thích Nhất Hạnh, No Mud, No Lotus: The Art of Transforming Suffering
January 27, 2016 at 7:16 am
tellmeastorymick
“Both suffering and happiness are of an organic nature, which means they are both transitory; they are always changing. The flower, when it wilts, becomes the compost. The compost can help grow a flower again. Happiness is also organic and impermanent by nature. It can become suffering and suffering can become happiness again.”
– Thích Nhất Hạnh, No Mud, No Lotus: The Art of Transforming Suffering
💜
January 29, 2016 at 10:07 pm
alasanewagain
You commented on my post. Admittedly—shamefully—I cannot figure out for the life of me if there’s a way to personally message someone on WordPress. Anyway, thank you for your thoughtful post. I know it’s the wine talking, but I feel quite hopeless at the moment. Thank you. I am not suicidal, I swear, but I think I needed the kindness of a stranger tonight. Else I wouldn’t have posted in this state I’m in. Thank you again. Your words meant a lot to me.
February 2, 2016 at 2:31 pm
Seasweetie
I am glad I could help a little bit, and I hope you are feeling some joy and peace today. Believe me, I know how wine talks. If you ever want to reach out personally, you can at wandererafk@yahoo.com. Sending you hugs from snowy Colorado.
January 31, 2016 at 9:18 pm
wisewoodpidgeon
This is a lovely post – I’m so glad I found you. I’m looking forward to reading more of your posts. I think we have some things in common – and looking forward to getting to know you 🙂
February 2, 2016 at 2:29 pm
Seasweetie
Thank you, wisewoodpigeon – and what a lovely name. I think we do have some things in common, from looking at your posts, and I look forward to making a new blog friend.
February 2, 2016 at 3:30 pm
wisewoodpidgeon
Hi there, thanks, and yes I’m looking forward to that too. 🙂