Monday, October 28, 2013


I've been reading Wendell Berry's classic, Jayber Crow; had to put the book down and breathe for a bit after this passage:

The grief, when it came, you could feel filling the air. It took up all the room there was. The place itself, the whole place, became a reminder of the absence of the hurt or the dead or the missing one. I don’t believe that grief passes away. It has its time and place forever. More time is added to it; it becomes a story within a story. But grief and griever alike endure...

... But after a while, though the grief did not go away from us, it grew quiet. What had seemed a storm wailing through the entire darkness seemed to come in at last and lie down.”

1 comment:

Maureen said...

This holds such truth.

If grief did not grow quiet, I don't think we could go on. Still, I agree that we live with it, always, its intensity, if we're fortunate, waning with time.