The sadness that struck me when the small jpeg that I uploaded expanded into an almost life sized image of Ned with Shaan was piercing. The sorrow doesn't lessen with time's solemn march, it almost expands into hidden crevices waiting to escape out into consciousness.
Here is a poem that I just found on a website about books about grieving:
Sorrow
She rises out of nowhere, like a wave from the sea,
Slowly at first, silently, then crests and peaks;
Still I have a choice
I can turn away, go to work, watch a movie, play a game…
But I know sorrow well.
Though I turn away, she will wait,
perfectly patient,
until I am still,
then crush me with all her accumulated power.
Once I had angry walls to shut her out,
But her incessant pounding tore them down.
So now, when she rises,
I turn to her and say,
Here I am, I know you, sorrow.
She crashes on my shoreline,
And sorrow and I are one
Until, trailing frothy whitecaps,
She sweeps away.
P. G. White
