I must admit, I'm only a few pages into Lewis' A Grief Observed and I already feel the need to say something. In my life I have no experienced grief in the way most have. That is; none of my loved ones have died. Perhaps God has been gracious to me, perhaps I haven't loved well enough. I don't know which is more truth. Whatever the answer, death has not touched me so intimately and yet I feel as though I have spent most of my life in mourning for a thing I could not define. That feeling of bereivement has been an almost constant companion in my life since my early teen years. In some ways I feel as though I have mourned more than most, though I believe I have lost less.
All that being said, I fear the reality that has not come to me. At the same time I hope to one day love someone with such a strength that the grief of their loss would allow me write an entire book. It would be a privillage to love like that, no matter the cost.
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