The Peacock of Truth

Nothing can adequately encompass how empty, yet overwhelming, it feels to hear the shrill cries of an aggrieved mother meet the stifled sobs of her widowed daughter-in-law. Time stands still, and all that penetrates the silence are sounds of despair and heart-shattering pain, in some ill-versed, unwelcome off-tune.
The unrelenting welling and compression of the sorrow of heartbreak is incapacitating. It’s as if your heart and all its rooting arteries have turned to rock, and continually, chambers crumble and arteries crack. Heartbreak is simultaneously acute, yet dull, heavy, and a soul-clenching experience.
It’s a plethora of callously-handled emotion, and it is beautifully cruel.
Though pain is not tangible – we cannot reach out, touch, or destroy it – it is still the starkest statement of what is. When we’re faced with loss, we are robbed of time. Our realities are shattered and rewritten by foreign fingers. Instantaneously.
There is no explanation. Death holds no closure.
Pain is a reflection of genuine love, compassion, loss and disbelief. We are left with bittersweet memories and an unsettling feeling that comes with not being able to reconcile that we simply cannot make any more.
Death does not get easier. Loss does not feel familiar.
Time has been torturous and cold.
There are no words of comfort.
We only have each other.

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