The universality of this grief is not lost on me.

Yesterday I took a walk through the wooded paths Joe made for me and when I came to his metal chair, I felt my heart crack and the sobbing commenced. I so badly wanted him sitting in that chair…a flesh and blood body that my hands could touch.  I wanted to hear his voice. The absence of him was overwhelming: empty space taunted me. I felt like I would evaporate in the sadness of it all.

And then I thought of you.

A sliver of piercing light started to filter through the cloudy fogginess. I realized that I’m not alone in this grief: that many people have walked this journey before me.  Death is so….well…widespread. We all will experience loss sooner or later and many people, even younger than I, have lost mothers, fathers, siblings, children, spouses or friend. And these ones left behind live on. They feel this pain and yet they don’t float away into nothingness. They stay sturdy and grounded on this earth.

And I can, too.

So I ask this of you: Will you open your heart and say to me…”I understand”?  Will you take a moment to tell me of your loss? Who was the one you loved so much? Who is it you continue to love…only now from a far off distance?  How do you do it? Tell me you survived. That you go on.

It helps.

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