the compassion in people who have lost
January 25, 2015 § 7 Comments
I keep remembering this sentence I saw once in Humans of New York. It was from a story about a widow who lost her husband of so many years. When her husband was dying, she asked him How am I supposed to live without you?. And her husband answered, Take the love that you have for me, and spread it all around.
To this day, those words reverberate inside my shell, filling my core with both sadness and wisdom. Of course, that is absolutely the right thing to do. But for some reason, the idea leaves me with a heavy sense of heartache. It was an order to give away to whoever else something you have allotted to someone special. It was the gentle pushing away of hands that yearn to hug someone. It was the last forehead kiss of a lover, who refuses you to kiss him back for the last time. It was when I took down my mom’s clothes from their hangers, laid them out on the bed, sorted them out through wafts of familiar memories that dusted out of them, folded them and decided to whom they should go instead. It was painful, it was generous, it was the right thing.
Perhaps this is why people who have lost someone can sometimes show the most amazing compassion. Look at them, look at those who suffer silently for people who have long gone. Perhaps they too want to say, no, I’m not kind. It isn’t me. It’s just that, I don’t know what to do with all the love I’m left with.
This post is dedicated in loving memory of my mom, and to my dad who continues to serve others. Happy 32nd Wedding Anniversary. This is also dedicated to every beautiful person I have been lucky to know.