For some reason, I have been unable or unwilling to write anything for the past few weeks, so I continue to share words and thoughts from fellow travelers. This one hits home for me. Yes, my life is divided into before and after. Moving through this world as a guest. Watching other people’s holidays, other’s people’s happinesses, other peoples hopes and dreams. So little of this world is my own. Something is missing that can never be replaced. Time only heightens the magnitude of the tragedy, every day brings fresh insight as to what we lost. There are wounds no amount of time can heal.
Something is over. In the deepest levels of my existence something is finished, done. My life is divided into before and after.
— Lament for a Son, Nicholas Wolterstorff
I am unable to re-read my early postings because it’s too difficult to revisit that raw pain. Yet, I am almost positive at one time I shared my thoughts on how my husband and I mark our time in the world by before Devastation Day and after Devastation Day. That before time will always remain so sacred to us — a time when our own little world was as it should be.
By now, should I be brushing myself off in my dazed and confused state of mind and jump right back onto the merry-go-round of life? Time is marching on without me. I am frozen in a weird and horrible time zone which only other devastated grievers have visited or…
View original post 679 more words