For J, with love.
Grief is insane. I had thought always to mourn gently. I was wrong. Grief is wretched and raw and has sharp jagged edges that rip and leave ragged shards that shear and shred the heart. The mind plays through the scenes of destruction and replay is pressed again and again until it is distracted. The `if only, if only` is the background track with no off switch, fully in play but futile; the die has been cast.
But grief is gentle too. It has rounded edges of kindness and thoughtfulness and deep consolation which bathe the senses. It is mediated in the form of flowers, so care-fully chosen, and cards, so care-fully written, and in poetry and pictures and numerous messages and all the expressions of sorrow and sadness that humankind can muster to help mend the mind and soul of another.
At first there are no words, just pain. Then quietly grief sets into loss. And life goes on.
