La grande et triste erreur de quelques-uns, c’est de s’imaginer que ceux que la mort emporte nous quittent : ils ne nous quittent pas, ils restent.
Où sont-ils ? Dans l’ombre ? Oh non, c’est nous qui sommes dans l’ombre. Eux, sont à côté de nous, sous le voile, plus présents que jamais. Nous ne les voyons pas, parce que le nuage obscur nous enveloppe, mais eux nous voient. Ils tiennent leurs beaux yeux pleins de lumière arrêtés sur nos yeux pleins de larmes. Les morts sont des invisibles, ce ne sont pas des absents.
J’ai souvent pensé à ce qui pourrait le mieux consoler ceux qui pleurent. Voici : c’est la foi en cette présence réelle et ininterrompue de nos morts chéris ; c’est l’intuition claire, pénétrante, que, par la mort, ils ne sont ni éteints, ni éloignés, ni même absents, mais vivants près de nous, heureux, transfigurés, et n’ayant pas perdu, dans ce changement glorieux, ni une délicatesse de leur âme, ni une tendresse de leur cœur, ni une préférence de leur amour, mais ayant au contraire, dans ces profonds et doux sentiments, grandi de cent coudées.
La mort, pour les bons comme toi Loren, est la montée éblouissante dans la lumière, dans la puissance et dans l’amour.
Sara…
The great, sad mistake made by some is to believe that those whom death takes have left us. But they do not leave; they remain.
Where are they? In shadow? Oh no, it’s us that are in shadow. They are at our side, beneath a veil but more present than ever. We don’t see them because a dark cloud surrounds us, but they do see us. They keep their beautiful eyes, full of light, fixed on our eyes, full of tears. The dead are invisible, but they are not gone.
I have often thought about what might best comfort those who are mourning. It’s this: faith in the real and uninterrupted presence of our departed loved ones. My instinct is clear, sharp– by death they are not extinguished or distant or even absent– they live close to us; happy, transformed. They are not lost, in this glorious transfiguration, and neither is the delicateness of their souls or the tenderness of their hearts. Instead, with these deep and gentle feelings, they have expanded a hundredfold.
In death the good, like you Loren, rise in a dazzling light, through the power of love.
Sara…
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Sara. Just heard. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know him and I can’t stop crying. He must have been great. I remember all the small talks we had about him. He’ll always be in our hearts and minds…
Love you darling
If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever
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