I recently ran across a quotation that conveys something I have often experienced since losing my sister in November, and which I have noticed in others – most recently, a new friend – who have also lost a loved one to death:
It is an exquisite and beautiful thing in our nature, that, when the heart is touched and softened by some tranquil happiness or affectionate feeling, the memory of the dead comes over it most powerfully and irresistibly. It would seem almost as though our better thoughts and sympathies were charms, in virtue of which the soul is enabled to hold some vague and mysterious intercourse with the spirits of those whom we loved in life.
– Charles Dickens
Yes.
Since Krista disappeared from this earth, every joyful moment, every deep laugh, every quiet contemplation of beauty summons her memory. I do not know how long this will continue, and I cannot decide whether I wish it to stop.
It’s like dancing a few perfect steps to a lovely but wistful song. The moment is exquisite, but joy and grief strike a sudden heartwrenching chord and you find yourself nearly overcome. Do you go on dancing or walk from the floor? Either way, your heart is pierced with bittersweet.
And the song plays on.
