A Week: Heartbroken

Sometimes I am stunned by the lunacy of this world and its inhabitants: in one image we see the dying and dead wildlife produced by the gulf oil hemorrhage (spill is NOT the word most people are using) and in another, the mad frenzy created by the release of the ipad. More and more everything seems disjoint - illogical - and incoherent. Amid all of this there is no good news. Chesney is gone, and I am heartbroken. I have always said that not knowing is the worst - not knowing where he is now, how is is - if he is...is he suffering...

But that is just a little gray cat in a world full of unending misery, pain and bigger tragedies. Just a little gray cat.

And as I can often do, I thoughtlessly blame those close to me for not caring as much, or not grieving as they should. But of course, what can they say? Life goes on. How timely, then, that the following quote appeared in today's local newspaper:

"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares."

~ Henri J.M. Nouwen