Journal entry by Al Negstad — a minute ago
Ever since Joanne's death 13, months ago I've been living in the land of grief. But, my feelings of grief today are much less intense than they were 12, months ago. As the intensity of my grief has declined I've also reflected on the relative immensity of losses. In one regard loss is loss and therefore, grief is grief. Losing a prized possession or a significant investment occasions a sense of loss, and therefore grief. However, it is unlikely that either of those loses would cause the level of grief that the death of a family member would trigger.
There is a sense that the loss of Joanne, my wife of 55, years, is to me the greatest loss, but perhaps only the greatest loss that I've yet experienced. These qualitative/quantitative thoughts about loss and grief were stimulated by an announcement in church today of the death of a couple's 31(?) year old son. As devastating as was Joanne's death I can't begin to imagine this couple's loss and grief. Word's fail me in this situation.
With the thought of 'words failing' I'm reminded of the source of comfort for me in the land of grief...relationships. Of course words are a part of relationships but it wasn't specific words of condolences that were most comforting. Rather, it was the words of family and friends in conversation. These relationships were the consistent beacon of hope for me as I came to terms with Joanne's death. Perhaps it is only me, but some grief just seems too deep for words and one can only be there for the bereaved, in whatever form that takes. In the agony of deepest grief words pale.
Takk for alt,
Al
There is a sense that the loss of Joanne, my wife of 55, years, is to me the greatest loss, but perhaps only the greatest loss that I've yet experienced. These qualitative/quantitative thoughts about loss and grief were stimulated by an announcement in church today of the death of a couple's 31(?) year old son. As devastating as was Joanne's death I can't begin to imagine this couple's loss and grief. Word's fail me in this situation.
With the thought of 'words failing' I'm reminded of the source of comfort for me in the land of grief...relationships. Of course words are a part of relationships but it wasn't specific words of condolences that were most comforting. Rather, it was the words of family and friends in conversation. These relationships were the consistent beacon of hope for me as I came to terms with Joanne's death. Perhaps it is only me, but some grief just seems too deep for words and one can only be there for the bereaved, in whatever form that takes. In the agony of deepest grief words pale.
Takk for alt,
Al
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