Some things, like memories, are not easy to write about. I know that memory is a wonderful thing yet it can be quite frightening in its scope. My memories seem to be activated at random, as I presume happens to others. All of a sudden a memory is there without seemingly being called. While others have to be dragged from wherever they reside.
While the time spent without Magucha has not been easy, time can be kind. It dulls the pain. Sort of. But the ache remains, as do the memories. They always will.
But the curious in me wants to know so many things. One thing has bothered me, even though I think I have worked it out – why we/I grieve. Grief hurts in many ways but it’s all about me! It’s about my hurt; my loss; my feelings.
I should be glad that Magucha no longer suffers; I should be glad that she is no longer burdened by the trappings and necessities of life, as we live it. I am - but it is not easy!
That her love; that her emotional strength; that her mischievous sense of humour; that her deep and sensitive knowledge of the needs of others; that all this has just disappeared into "nothing" is beyond my understanding.
Of course it is a given that I have absolutely no idea what has "happened" to her. I have the strong conviction though, that when we die we still “exist”, obviously without the bodily form we used when “alive”. The essence that was/is us continues. That essence, that “Life”, has returned to wherever it came from.
All I know is that (in the words of the song) “Loving her was easier than anything I’ll ever do again”.
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