reply to post by OldCorp
I lost my daughter on Monday. She was only 24 years old, and she was the light of my life. Since I found out she was gone, I've been in Hell.
I've alternated between blood-curdling screams, uncontrollable sobbing, and states of sheer numbness. I haven't lost a close family member since my
father died when I was 13. I wasn't expecting grief to be a tangible thing, something you feel deep in your chest threatening to tear outyour soul.
It's almost too much to bear.
Dear Sir, OldCorp, Bob,
Your description above is beautifully written. It is like enormous waves, emotional-tsunamis that come unbidden and can not be ignored. We can only
ride them out. Trembling, shouting, uncontrollable and overwhelming agony.
I have not lost either of my children (my daughter is about Ashley's age), nor have I been forbidden access to either of them ever; those two
circumstances I have no way of actually relating to, but I absolutely grieve for you, with my whole heart.
My father died about a year and a half ago; I had never experienced such extraordinary pain, and I can only imagine the horror being worse if it were
either of my children.
I feel completely at a loss to say anything of comfort to you, but nevertheless wanted you to know I am praying for you, that I believe it was she who
said "Dad" on the phoneline, and that the waves get smaller over time.
Try to spend some time outdoors, alone, and pay attention to nature, to the glory of the Earth that we all will leave on day. I did much of that
after Daddy passed, and with silent tears streaming freely, I felt his arms, one day, wrap round me. She loves you still, Bob (forgive my
familiarity); she is there with you, always, and you will once again be reunited with her.
I'm so sorry for your pain. I believe if I am ever forced to endure the same, it will be the end of my sanity. All brightest blessings to you,
brother, may the grace of the Divine oneness give you strength. Allow it to wash through you, the pain, and the love, and the memories. We are all
One.
Peace