.
Our love is a thief of darkness and grief
Our grave proves the tale
The sea she’s cruel and will always rule
Storms will come, and we fail
Heave, heave, heave you bailers
Our love speaks once again
Heave, heave, drunken sailors
How we roam, we die
Our love is a beaute but a vexed bruit
Our grave proves the tale
The sea she’s cruel and always will rule
Storms will come, and we fail
Is our life set in the threshold of realism, as in do we truly exist?
Does anyone definitively know if we are in fact, real?
Remember that proverb, “To know life is to live life,” or is it the other way around?
In any case~
What if we are mere figments of imagination? Conceivably a dream or reflection in the mirror, like an imitation of what might or would have been. If the universe was created by a simple flight of fancy, and if that fancy becomes monotonous, will all life come to its final conclusion and be forever removed from existence?
And if this is true, and I’m genuinely not here, then it’s impossible that you’re reading my little rant and therefore we are delicate fabrications allocated into sections that make up an entire narrative. But not of our own.
Impossible, right?
So many questions, too few answers. Which in turn leads to the day-old query as to which the answer permanently eludes, “What is the meaning of life.”
Perhaps that’s not really the question. Maybe, just maybe, that is the answer.
There are so many who are broken and adrift who contemplate this lost cause when the cause was never fair-minded, to begin with. Making the what, in this case, irrelevant because if what doesn’t exist and if there’s no logical reasoning in regards to the truth, then such a question serves no purpose. Therefore the only possible conclusion is, “just live.”
Like the proverb suggests, carry on and reject the possibility that one day this life will end at any given moment, terminating all that coincides within the illusion. Even if every last one of us is a fantasy caught in the swiftest of rivers with no hope of escape, life implores us to flourish, gain experience, thrive, and fall madly in love.
And there we have it, problematic actions with countless, frivolous interpretations to come full circle. Therefore the question arises once more and will do so for always. So I ask this, if the question returns back to itself, then isn’t it possible that the answer resides in its own uncertainty?
“Life asked death, ‘Why do people love me but hate you?’ Death responded, ‘Because you are a beautiful lie and I am a painful truth.”
—Author unknown
Death, the inevitable fate of all life.
Everyone manages grief in their own way. For a child, the devastation of such a catastrophic event can forever alter perceptions of their reality.
Children are so emotionally dependent upon those who are closest to them, it’s impossible to acknowledge life without those people. Yet acceptance is a fine line.
The younger the child, the easier it is to accept the loss. It isn’t that the child doesn’t care, it simply isn’t possible for those under the age of four to understand the concept of death. A toddlers’ reaction to the death of a loved one is based on his or her surroundings. Any changes within in a home with children are more complicated due to the disruption of their routine.
It’s important to keep your explanation simple, to the point. The dead aren’t hungry, cold, or tired. They are simply gone. If religion is part of your life, explain the passing like crossing a bridge or flying up to heaven. There isn’t a need to be dramatic or embellish. Answer questions the best you can, and remember the importance of being nonjudgmental. Your little one doesn’t have your life experience.
Older more mature children are likely to perceive death as it is; the permanent departure from who they love and care for.
It’s hard for them to muddle through the sorrow and pain. They become terrified of losing everyone and might attempt to withdraw or revert, becoming demanding and needy. Hold your ground and remain supportive by encouraging them to express their feelings. Help them develop healthy coping mechanisms to get them through their grieving process. Consider seeking professional help.
“The unmarred innocence of a child is a temporary veil of protection that every mother begs God to preserve, always”. ~Shell DeToni
Below is one of many letters written by a child searching for answers while trying to make sense of a life that had been turned upside down by the death of a loved one. She blames herself for how this tragic event has tore her family apart. The child’s lack of life experience simply makes it impossible for her to comprehend the simple fact that one cannot be held accountable for other people’s choices, nor is she responsible for those affected by the decisions other’s have.
It was her first experienced with death and while time has been kind, her lamentation has yet to be concluded. Perhaps someday, that blessing will be meant for her. Nonetheless, acceptance looms nearby.
Hi gramma. It’s been a year now since I’ve talked to you. I know you won’t reply back, but I just really miss you so I wanted to say I love you. Every day I’m gonna be silly and childish thinking that you will respond, but in fact, I know deep down inside, that you won’t. I just really miss you. I wish you could come back. Because you’re gone, dad is getting worse, and the family is also. I keep listening to songs that remind me of you. Music is the biggest escape in life. I’ve noticed that you don’t have any pictures of me. Sometimes I get mad at you because I make myself think that I’m not really important and I get really jealous of the other kids because you played with them more when in reality, they will hardly or not at all remember you and I will remember you forever. I get really upset with myself for being mad at you. I don’t like it when I am. I made a note for you. It’s only three words though. I didn’t give it to you because I forgot to. I’m such an idiot. I hate forgetting things. Because of my stupid head, I forget a lot of things. I forget the good times, but remember the bad. I miss you too much gramma. I want you back. If I could take every single one of my tears your loss has brought me, I bet I could build a staircase to heaven with them so I could see you. I wish I could come and see you. Or at least call you for one last time, so I could hear your voice and your laugh again. I know I’m not the most important person in your life but I still miss you and cry almost every night for you. I just love you so much. I’m even crying right now as I type this. I’m trying not to wake everyone up. I just really miss you. Sorry this note was so long. I just wanted to get my feelings out to you. Well, I love you and miss you. Bye.
Grief has bonded the child’s innocence to this moment forever, yet love will someday grant her serenity. Children are easily distracted and might show behavior suggesting they’ve moved on as if they have accepted the lessons of finality. Weather it be they forget or they move on, time truly is the magical remedy for grief.
This is a short story that I wrote for a contest in January 2016. Though my entry didn’t win or get any special kudo’s, I feel this is one of my better narratives. I thought outside of the box on this one. The rules were:
A heavy blanket of snow illuminated the night while cold
flakes pecked at her chapped cheeks. As she took another
deep breath, her ears winced at the broken silence.
Shivering continuously now, she trudged while cold
flakes pecked at her chapped cheeks. As she took another
deep breath, her ears winced at the broken silence. drifts,
avoiding obscure stumps and black, low-hanging branches. The
item she dragged behind her left a noticeable trail but she
knew it would be deeply buried by the storm come morning…
This is a story I could’ve ran with yet; I was bound by the word count. I struggle with these because my imagination runs wild and it’s extremely difficult to keep it short, sweet, and to the point.
Please share your input. It’s impossible to improve without constructive criticism from both readers and fellow authors.
Shell de Toni 