It is in my wallet. Every time I open my wallet I see her, then I cannot hear the ambient noise, nor do I sense the outside world, it all just… stops. Someone has to push me or yell at me to snap me out of it. This used to embarass me.
She died August 21, 2003. Everyone loved her, but I wanted nothing in return save that she believed, no, understood how desperatly I loved, and valued her. Never will I know if she did. Now I have forgotten how to love romantically, and am no good to anyone. She was vibrant and full of life and love for all. She was Good. Me for her if I could. She should be here instead of me.
Tags: death, loss, love
Other People's Thoughts
My dear, those who are vibrant and full of life and love for all wish for all others to share that vibrance and joy. They are grieved by the sorrow of those around them, especially a sorrow they realize they have caused. You can best honor her memory by, as best you can, preserving a spark of her spirit as a light for your own life. I think that would make her happy :)
I know the situation must be different, but six months ago I came close to losing my own life during a break-in—I can’t say how close, because I lost consciousness during the assault. When I woke up the next morning, after calling the police, I called someone who deeply values and loves me—though at the time, I didn’t know that. And perhaps neither of us knew. I called because I knew he would come, and I needed someone to be with me. Your description reminds me of his—he tells me that in that moment when I called, the world stopped. And he would sacrifice innummerable things to have been there in my place. But given the choice, I wouldn’t have let him—in many respects, it would be much harder for me to bear the thought of someone hurting him, or anyone else I love, especially if the hurt had been meant for me.
We were lucky—we had another chance to learn and appreciate just how important we are to one another, how much we do love and value each other. Not just because of this event, although this kind of thing can sort of throw things into focus. But if it had been otherwise, if I had died unexpectedly that night, I would not have wanted him to grieve over my loss. I would want him to go on to live, and love, and smile at the sky just because it was a beautiful day. And that sort of smile is the way I would want to be remembered. Love and joy are not meant to be buried, they are meant to be spread, and in this way they can never die.
— Beth Thursday February 22, 2007 #
The Saddest Thing I Own is a 2005 commission of New Radio and Performing Arts, Inc., (aka Ether-Ore) for its Turbulence web site. It is supported by the Jerome Foundation in celebration of the Jerome Hill Centennial and in recognition of the valuable contributions of artists to society.