Sorry for your loss

I have this (perhaps strangely) vivid memory in which I can relive moments that feel almost as real as when I first experienced them. (I don't think it's anything special; I think everyone's memory works more or less that way, to varying degrees.). So I can feel like anything that has happened is still happening, and I can experience it anytime I chose.

So I can feel like no one is ever really gone.

I really do feel like human memory has this potential, and perhaps someday we will have a technology that permits everyone to experience their memories this way.

I also have some weird ideas about time. So when I say that whatever has happened is still happening, I mean it.

A parent's worst nightmare. Hope you find comfort in your memories of him.

I AM so sorry that you lost your precious son. I have never lost a child and I believe that would be the ultimate hurt! In time your heart will heal and your son will just become a part of your nature. I lost another friend over the holidays, myself. But, I believe the love that was shared will remind us to carry on, in appreciation of all that is good and lovely in this world. My heart goes out to you.

From a piece I found a few years ago by an atheist writer whose name I can't remember. A deep reminder that darkness and light are symbiotic. (Taken from the end of the paper)

"Then one dark day we lose the most important person in our life. Maybe a parent, a brother, a sister, a lover, or, unspeakably, a child. What possible purpose can we glean from a death so intimately painful? Is the seething hate we feel meant to be used? Should we unleash ourselves upon destiny’s design and rip away any and all semblance of joy and love as has been done to us? We must look back again. Our blanket kept us safe when we were small and fragile. Our toys brought creativity and entertainment when we were bored. Our pets gave us strength when we were wounded and our friends took the blame for us when we made a mistake. We continue. Chapters in our lives create the volumes we are composed of. Death is the drying of its ink. The impermanent becomes permanent as the impressions of others resonate within our souls and no death has taken place but the ever forward march of a legacy that we are responsible for passing on…

…until we too go into that permanent state."

Not that you needed the words. Just felt they were worth sharing.

So sorry to hear man, that is the toughest thing I can imagine.