Suze and Martijn relax by the Bay at Dungarven, near Waterford, Ireland, Summer 2005
Life's pace has picked up a little here. Still, I bask in long languishing summer days and glimmering evenings. It is coming up to a year that Martijn is gone. I'll let a brilliant writer and philosopher explain what happens when someone you love dearly dies. John O'Donohue wrote this in this lovely book, Anam Cara, a few short years before death stole his soul quietly, unexpectedly one evening:
Death is a lonely visitor. After it visits your home, nothing is ever the same again. There is an empty place at the table; there is an absence in the house. Having someone close to you die is in an incredibly strange and desolate experience. Something breaks in within you then that will never come together again. Gone is the person whom you loved, whose face, and hands and body you knew so well. ... The death of a loved one is bitterly lonely.
Everyone wants the one left behind to 'be better' to 'move forward'. We move. We move. But there is always a hole where s/he's supposed to be.
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