There's a nice little grief devotional book that I read before I go to bed at night. They are all really good, but this one stood out so I made a note to myself to record it on your blog. They always start out with a quote:
(His) love is everywhere. It follows me as I go about the house, meets me in the garden, sends swans into my dreams. In a strange, underwater or above earth way I am very nearly happy.
-Sylvia Townsend Warner
In a strange, paradoxical way, the dead do seem to accompany us, like a shadow only slightly removed from our own being. I don't think this happens in any sustained fashion right away. Perhaps we have to wait a while, know the reality of separation, and give ourselves time for the components of our lives to sift down into their new patterns before we can begin to see that the relationship with the one who has died is not over. It is different, but it is not over. It is not what we would wish, but it has its own reality and comfort.
Perhaps our sense of the loved one comes unbidden; perhaps we invoke it by our thoughts. It comes to us in different ways-a sense of the person's presence, of warmth and love in the room. A dream that speaks directly to our need.
Long ago, when my grief was still quite new, I wondered aloud to my son about the origin and meaning of one of these experiences-Was it real? Could I trust it? And he said, "Why don't you just accept it as a gift?"
I will listen. I will welcome as gifts the memory and presence of love.
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