Sunday, November 2, 2014

And the world continues

Some people have so much love in them they are able to support all those around them.  That love is that beacon that draws people to them, helping them to thrive and continue.  They have so much love that it spills out to everyone and can help mend broken hearts and conquer fears of those around them.  Then, one day, that love is just gone and to those who knew that love, that beacon, they are left empty and broken.

To those people, the sun doesn't have the same shine.  A piece of them is missing, broken, gone forever.  Joy is always marred with knowing that it isn't as joyful without that love.  Nothing is ever the same again.

Yet, somehow, the world continues.  Time still moves forward.  Babies are born.  Jobs move you away.  Houses that saw that love and beacon crumble apart by time.  People get older.  Holidays come and go.  Life just continues, yet it is somehow emptier than before.  How can time and life just continue to move forward with your beacon gone?  Your standing on your own, but it is never really the same.  I have said it before - it is how I imagine losing a limb would be like - you learn how to function but it is never the same again.  Ever.  And to a certain extent a portion of you is forever gone.

People hold a tremendous amount of love in them.  Ask anyone with a pile of kids.  You have that first child and you have so much love for them.  You couldn't imagine there is room for any more love in your heart - but then you have that second child and now you have twice as much love.  The love for those people just continues to grow.  You make friends that you also love.  Your love just continues to build throughout your life.

So what happens when someone with a tremendous amount of love dies?  Where does that love go?That beacon of love that we all flocked to is gone, but to where?  Is it just forever gone, or is that beacon still out there.  Is her love for us still strong and thriving, or did it get buried in that vault with her?

Miss you Grandma.