You Left Me Alone on the Beach...
How can we honor the memory and still move on?
"I feel her absence, as though a shadow had stopped dancing on the wall. It is a soft pain, not sharp or shocking, but rather poignant and peaceful." This is a line from a poem I wrote last month, for a dear friend who was taken by cancer. A lady of sunshine colored hair, and laugh lines around her eyes. Not even halfway through her life.
I have experienced much loss for a girl only 26. The last funeral I attended, I sat by a girl who was a few years older than me and she whispered into my ear, "I've never been to a funeral." It was shock that hit me, but mostly envy. If I could erase each casket, each lilly, each pew, each tearful embrace and lack of comforting words to offer, each handkerchief, each handful of soft earth tossed onto the solid wood where a person who once loved me now lay, I would. I would, I would. Those places are never filled, we simply make new places for new people. More people to love, more people to lose.
Why so often the best leave us to struggle through on our own, is an irony to me. Those that hold us together, suddenly gone. Their strength no longer there for us to fall back onto, and we fumble to stand and walk alone. Their whispers in our ears, encouraging yet remote. We can only hope to live with the strength and honor that our lost friends would expect of us. By doing this, we allow them to emerge all around us, because they too were a part of our soul. And though sometimes the sun shines painfully bright over that spot our loved ones used to fill, never stop loving, even though love leads to hurt, it also leads everywhere else. Never stop loving.
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