A world apart
The world can be divided into two camps: those who have experienced the death of a close loved one and those who haven't. The longer I live I recognize the haunted look, the eternal presence, of an individual who has gone through this earth shattering event. It connects those of us who have never met, who sit beside us on buses and trains, in movie theaters and grocery stores. There are the whispers of what could have been in the hearts of these people and their eyes, oh god those eyes, they always tell the story. Even those who cannot deal with it and remain in hideous denial, they still have the mark etched into their souls, permanently available in that strange look that says to us "what cruel puppetmaster would do this to us". Those who have not had this happen to them in their lives have virtually no idea of the preposterousness, the absurdity and the wretched eternal emptiness that absolutely nothing can ever fill when the lover is removed forever. I envy those people. And I feel sad for them as well. I never truly existed, I found, until I had gone through this human initiation. Not everyone has this brand. I wish them strength and courage when they do. Until then, I recognize my people.