Sitting in the deep January darkness of morning, sitting with this mourning darkness, I’m willing it to feel like a gift… Ms Oliver’s words have saved me SO many times over the years – simply, I believe the solid, earthy truth of her clear poetic, or prosaic, words – but after this week, I am not so sure.
One dear friend told us over a cup of tea on Wednesday, her chemo and radio therapies have failed to halt the cancer in her lungs.
Another dear, gentle friend to all in our community died yesterday lunchtime after months of confusion and pain as tumours filled her brain.
And Mary O. herself died on Thursday of lymphoma.
The light has gone out, the darkness envelopes. I am wading upstream, reading her words, trying to get a foothold, as eddies of grief swirl…
For once, I am not seeking a glimmer to lighten the heaviness. I am trying (and currently failing) to receive this box full of darkness as a gift.
A Quiet Passion 
Dearest Claire….I’m so very sorry for the loss of your friend, and the terrible prognosis of the other. I know very well the pain of grief so won’t offer platitudes…simply a cyber-hug and a sincere wish for ease…and this, which I stumbled across the other day (and I’m paraphrasing as I don’t have my notebook in front of me) —I think it’s far more validating than trying to jolly someone out of their pain….just a gentle reminder that this too shall pass.
“And if you can’t find your way out of the darkness, I will sit there with you and show you the stars”
Be well, dear Claire…and again, I’m deeply sorry for your sadness. xoxo
Which is a way
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Oh Claire…sending you love. These last months have also been a time of loss for me. A dear young woman of 41 left us this week. I sit in the darkness with you my friend.x.
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Dear Claire, I am so sorry for the grief and darkness swirling about you and your loved ones. Sending wishes for peace and comfort to your sweet heart. xo
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