“How can the dead be truly dead when they still live in the souls of those who are left behind?”
—Carson McCullers, The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter
It has been a hard week.
It has been a hard week for me. It has been a hard week in Cancerland. Every single morning, I woke up to news of yet another friend who has died from metastatic breast cancer.
“How often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, “I never realized my loss till this moment”? The same leg is cut off time after time.”
I struggle with what to say – words are not enough. They are never enough. They never heal the wounds that continually reopen, no stitch is strong enough for that. The staccato repetition is numbing – although it should still hurt, it lessens with each blow.
“Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.”
― Pablo Neruda
Our community is reeling, and I am grieving, over and over again. I don’t have words, but I also can’t stay silent.