Bereavement

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I searched for you. I called your name. You would not answer me. Is it true? Do you no longer exist? Row upon row, I walk the stones. I look to the sky. I look around. Are you the dove that lands ever so near? Or the chimes I hear? I can not see you.

In my teens I did a report on reincarnation. I did not form a solid position. I believe all things are possible and amazing things can happen. Who is to say what can and can not be done? Not the naysayers of God. Not even his faithful followers. There are miracles we are not always aware of. The only ones who truly know are the ones who have died and stayed that way.

Ah, yes, there is faith. Faith in your religion. Faith in your personal beliefs. There is scientific beliefs. Only beliefs, because, in the great effort trial and proof, there is no solid proof. The machines may no longer show the signs of life as we know them to be, but the proof isn’t conclusive. Our ability to test may become better. We have learned that there is a moon and planets in the universe. We have learned that the Earth is not flat. One day we may have the conclusive proof we need. Until then, what we have is our own faith and beliefs.

I was raised on a heaven and a hell. There was even a middle ground, a purgatory. Three friends of mine died when I was seven, but I would talk to them in my prayers. I would tell God to send them my love. Tell them that I missed them. When my grandfather died while I was in my early twenties, I would see apparitions of him when I returned to where he last resided. When my cousin was dying from an aneurysm, I walked in and saw him at her side. Is this my mind trying to ease my pain? Why would it frighten me so much then?

I have always believed that worse things haven’t happened to me because I am being watched over. Angels or past friends and family? I realize how crazy this sounds. I do not believe I have any magic powers, because, if I had any, they would be the kind that would bring my loved ones back to me. I know they continue to live as long as I do not forget them(who could). I know they are in a “better” place. This is what my faith and religion have taught me. Still, I am human. I am selfish. I want them here for me.

I want to hold them and have them hold me. I want to hear them laugh, see the light in their eyes. I want to have them as I remember them. And, the most selfish of all, I want them here to love me. I still love them. I have not stopped.

So, yes, I continue to look for them. I call their names. I look to the sky and on the grass while I walk. I listen for the sound of their voices in the wind that blows by. I search the eyes of the dove that seems content sitting closely by. And, I wonder, are they there? Can they see me where they are? I look for their comfort and then I cry inside.

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