Saw an interview with a musician who lost his wife in a heart-wrenching accident: She fell at their home, through a glass door, and died of blood loss.
It struck me: ‘What would I say to such a man if we were to meet?’
Is it possible to say anything? I dearly would want to.
And then it struck me … perhaps there is only one true thing you can say, to him or anyone like him …
Not religion. Not spirituality. Not pity.
I’d like to sit right here with you, as long as you want to and when you want to, and just be with you.
I’d like to wait with you for a time when hope comes again.
But I won’t try platitudes. I’ll just be. Here.
And wait. In the fire.
And also remind you gently that we are waiting for it to burn out.
Because it can.
It might leave embers forever. It should.
But it can burn out.
It’s only the wait that is horrible. And should not be done alone.