Comments, Thoughts and Quotes
“Garrow is gone forever! And in time, I must meet the same fate. Love, family, accomplishments – they are all torn away, leaving nothing. What is the worth of anything we do?
The worth is in the act. Your worth halts when you surrender the will to change and experience life. But options are before you; choose one and dedicate yourself to it. The deeds will give you new hope and purpose. The only true guide is your heart. Nothing less than its supreme desire can help you.”
— From “Eragon” by Christopher Paolini
In life may we be blessed to hear the laughter,
Share the kindness or to cross the path
Of a free spirited soul
Though long that path may not be,
It’s the footprint etched within our hearts,
That will remain forever.
— Written by Patricia Chandonnet
“Death is a great tragedy. But to die while we are still living that is the greatest tragedy of all.”
— From “To Begin Again” by Naomi Levy
“Gravity will make you fall, and it will also keep you on the planet…. It’s how we respond to the tragedies in our lives that gives them meaning.”
— From Dana Reeve – (1961-2006)
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
— William Wordsworth
“The minister, attempting to comfort her, had told her that deaths compound in their ravages on the living. This is only the beginning, he had said to her. As you get older there will be more deaths of people you love; it is part of life. You are experiencing this early, he had said. That means you must try especially hard to stay strong. Perhaps it will be the making of you.
To her mind came the lines of poetry her grandfather would recite: how the poor formless oyster ‘shed this lovely lustre on his grief’.
It began with an intrusion. Something got into the shell by accident – a parasite, a grain of sand, or a small crab. If the oyster did not react it would die. Half pearls, which were simply bumps on the inside of the shell, were even called ‘blister’ pearls, as if to emphasize the hurt.
She thought perhaps she could do that. Make herself a pearl, to soften the hurt, a smooth round bud that she carried inside instead of this grating hurt.”
— An excerpt from Three Views of Crystal Water, by Katherine Govier
I am often asked how I go on, what do you do with the heartache? I only now can begin to explain the transformation from devastating, gut wrenching sorrow and the transition to a functional existence. The pain now flows as a bubbling brook, existing just beneath my consciousness. Like a stereo in the background it plays its song as daily life slowly resumes.
When I choose I can put my feet in or immerse my body in the flow and reflect on Jason’s life and death. I may think about a happy thought or allow sadness to surface. I control the brook at these times and will allow it to sink into my subconscious when I am ready.
The brook though has a life and soul of its own. Stimuli – a smell, a sound, a place, a friend, a song or a myriad of other events bring the brook to life, sometimes barely tickling my awareness and ebbing other times swelling its banks with giant waves of emotions. These sensations then surge forward often without warning into my consciousness as a torrential storm and a torrent of feelings flood my awareness. Overpowering sadness fills my senses and may even overwhelm or paralyze me. If it is an inopportune time for these thoughts I quickly mount my own mental defenses to stabilize myself until the time is right. If I can immediately manage this deluge of feelings I meet them head on, each instance learning more about my grief and myself. As time passes on occasion these explosions of the brook are less powerful and finally occasionally carry cheerful thoughts instead of sorrow. They may leave quickly but the aftermath can last hours or even days.
Do I fear that this brook will ever dry up? That the memories of Jason over the nineteen years of his life will escape from my mind? No! I know this brook will flow always and in time will give me comfort more often than anguish. Jason’s life will live on in my heart and mind until the day I pass on.
— Wayne L. Goldner, June 2006