Sunday, April 5, 2015

Day 862.

While trying to think up something ingenious and comforting to share with someone who is currently where I was 862 days ago, I couldn't think up anything that wouldn't come off as pity.

I'm sorry for your loss.
I got a lot of those.

My deepest condolences.
A default message that is not adequate.

God bless.
Well, obviously.

If I'd heard anything in those three days that would have made a difference, I wouldn't have been asking my Mum for the three weeks after, 'Now what am I supposed to do?'.

Hug's are comforting in the moment. Sentiments are temporary. Words are not always true. It's time that is constant and that's all you can give someone. I found out on my own because I gave myself the time to come to a realization.

Yesterday I was third party to a conversation that wasn't mine, but I enjoyed it all the same. Mitchy's brother lost his 14 year old son, suddenly, six years ago and yesterday she invited him to invitational Sunday at church. He declined and said he didn't understand why God takes the good ones. Then he asked, "Why does God take the good ones?". Before I could shoot back my reply about how it's not God's intention to break hearts, but he can certainly mend them, he unintentionally answered the question himself by using a great analogy about apples. When he use to work in the orchards picking apples and he asked the his supervisor why they don't use all the apples.

"We only take the good ones".

"Hold the love you have dear, and cherish every moment you are making. We don't always know what tomorrow will bring, so we must choose to be true today" -

1 comment:

Melissa said...

I'm trying to think if any words helped me, and you're totally right man, no words helped. Hugs helped and seeing in people's faces how much they cared and also how they couldn't do anything about it, but loved you, didn't know what to say, but just loved you. People's faces told me everything, pity, true love, judgments, the unknown, fakeness, realness. Interesting post. I liked the apples.

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