Grieving the Loss of a Treasure
Ah, grief and mourning. A hellish place but more and more often grieving the loss of Dan has begun to take on a sacred tone.
Dan’s death opened a tear in my soul like that of the Grand Canyon’s on the face of the Earth. I looked down on the Grand Canyon from the air years ago. It’s a ragged, angry-looking thing that looks like a monstrous wound.
I miss Dan a lot of course. A year ago he might have been sitting in “his chair” in the room next to where I am right now, muttering something about doping in the upcoming Tour de France or, God help us, politics here in the US. It’s the chit-chat and just missing the person’s presence that’s so hard. The everyday stuff. You know, going to the grocery store together. Shooting the breeze while sitting in the car at a red light.
My grief now is becoming more about about honoring the man Dan was, honoring our time together – memories…oh the memories – and honoring that he chose to spend his life with me.
A death has occurred
and everything is changed
by this event.
We are painfully aware that life
can never be the same again
that yesterday is over
that a relationship once rich
but there is another way to look upon this truth.
If life went on the same without the presence of
the one who has died,
we could only conclude
that the life we here remember
made no contribution,
filled no space, meant nothing.
The fact that this individual
left behind a place that cannot be filled
is a high tribute
to this individual.
Life can be the same after a trinket has been lost,
but never after
the loss of a treasure.
— Paul Irion
People who society would think should be hugely important to me have died but their death hasn’t caused me much more upset than a ripple. (A sad fact about my incredibly dysfunctional original family.) As a matter of fact, the lasting emotion has, in large part, been relief.
But Dan? Dan, was a treasure. And that says a lot about Dan.
Love you. Miss you forever.
Entry filed under: Musings.