Some grief requires solitude.
An interval to withdraw from social norms and attempt to heal in silence the breech carved through you.
Words, speech, even listening is hard. The effort required to perform simple tasks, to risk reaching out, even to your most trusted loved ones is unbearable. Because they know.
They know your heart is ripped open, gushing sorrow. Their compassion and love make it even more real.
For their hearts are also broken. They too have lost a beloved.
Love, how the ache of it’s loss can overpower you. The longing for it so deep and impenetrable. The absence that will forever be a companion for us now.
A part of me that was good and true, has vanished, but the memories of it, of you, Dan, are all around me.
Please forgive me my dear ones if you find me mute. My body needs time to regenerate, to weave a soft spot to fill the hole promised to me all those years ago. You know that I love you, that I know you are also in pain and with what remains of my tattered heart I am with you.
6 thoughts on “Solitude”
Love one another. When necessary use words. Sometimes silence carries more than language can.
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Love one another. When necessary use words.
Sometimes silence speaks to things far deeper than words can speak.
I know just what you are going through and I am here when and if you need me.
I understand so well what you are describing….. it’s hard waiting to connect! I had no idea how physical grief was…the “grief diet” when you don’t want to eat! Holy Basil helped me so much with that and the wires being so fried and frazzeled inside were helped by accupuncture.
Sending much love and gratitude that you are writing and moving!
I wish for you the time you need to grieve in the best way for you! Love you dear.
Heartbreaking. I am so very sorry for your immeasurable loss. Janet. Your writing is beautiful and so understandably pain-filled, it hurts.
My thoughts and love are with you and your family.
Fran Wayne (Anne’s friend)