T.S. Wright was kind to include a few of my words in her finely wrought essay on grief.
I’ve been preoccupied with death today. More accurately with grief.
A colleague found out on Monday that her sister had died. Based on what they know so far, she died in her sleep. The sister had not suffered with a long-time illness. She was healthy in all appearances. Strong, happy, and healthy is how my colleague described her. Happy. This adjective is the least meaningful in a diagnosis, but it is still so important to the people that love her. “She was happy, how could she die?” or “At least she had a happy life.”
To get that call — someone you love has died. Not a death you were expecting. Not an elder come sweetly to the end of their winter. Not the afflicted finally at peace. She was strong, happy and healthy. And now she is gone.
But you are still here — waiting your turn or running…
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O at the Edges 
I have a theory about why we tend to be the least “satisfied” with our words that seem to impact others the most. Maybe it’s a matter of our respective sets of perfectionist eyes believing that the thing that is too easy, too plain, too precise and universal, must therefore not be enough?
I know I can’t really speak for you, but for my part, I’m starting to figure out that if I ever find myself self-flagellating for being lame, or trite, or not my best (and not only when it comes to my writing!), it’s more likely the case than not that I’d been doing something right… The most challenging places to let oneself be are often where things are easy and hard and “not quite me” and still somehow exactly right all at the same time.
Anyway, I wonder if you’re feeling as blown away by the undeniably, precisely right impact of your “lonely” little poem right now as I am?
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I think that much of it lies in distrust (mistrust?) of the “easily” achieved. I’m too accustomed to “pulling teeth” and struggling with language and words and meaning to ever feel comfortable when a piece flows quickly and emerges almost whole in one swoop, as this one did. Perhaps a second set of eyes would be a good thing, in cases such as this. Ha! And yes, I’m delighted that the poem is finding its legs.
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So beautifully written. Your lines were a fitting addition to her thoughts.
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I’m pleased to have made any contribution to that essay!
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A beautiful post (thank you) and your quoted lines also ones to hold onto. Snail mail postcards ….? Any chance you’ll post the full poem referenced?
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I’ll likely post it next week, and will send a card your way.
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Thanks to both of you. A fitting reflection for this season. (K)
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Reblog on The Works of A. L. O’Prunty. Exceptional understanding of grief and the void left in the wake of Death.
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