What do we do when the loss is so great?
When it is felt so keenly?
When there is nothing we can do, nothing we can say to fill that void?
I rage and cry. I say no to this event. It cannot be.
I stumble my way through a prayer.
I try to remember.
I try not to make the mistake of despair.
I look to others. There are those who do not hesitate, but wade right in, no matter the cost in tears, discomfort, time. I try to follow. My hesitation is great.
There are those who fight to be grateful. It reminds me to ask for help to see.
There are those light a candle in the dark. And keep lighting. One for every year of a life.
A simple thing: paper, stones, flame. Each one like the placing of one more prayer, another heart lit through with love.
And this great mystery of grace: the trees are still bare, the air is still cold. We are still in the dark.
And yet, through our tears, we can see that it is not the same.