On Grief, Death and Loss

I am not elderly, ill, or especially macabre‚ but I think about death quite often.

I think of the deep and cavernous hole that will burrow its way into my heart and life, should I lose my children or my soulmate.

Furthermore, I think of what my own death would do to those loved ones, and how it would steal the gifts I want to continually give them throughout my life: my tender words, tight hugs, and empathetic tears.

 I want to eat pancakes for dinner with my family, watch my boys stroll (and occasionally stumble) through adulthood, and feel the 4 a.m. kisses on my forehead from the man I love more than all other men.

But death is the thief of these things. It is the cruel blade that cuts away dreams.

Isn’t it?

I am actually beginning to see death differently. Read More

 

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