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Sunday, 28 September 2014

This, too, will become a memory.

During the last few months I've spent a lot of time remembering. At first I found that all of my memories seemed to focus on the last days and weeks of Suzie's life. Everything I did at home made me think of things we had done together, especially during the time that I was caring for her during her illness. Gradually I've been able to stretch my mind back to the happier days when Suzie was well and full of life and laughter. Memories were, and still are, intensely painful, or sometimes gently heartwarming, depending on how I feel at the time. My heart aches with the longing to be 'back there' again, but sometimes I'm able to smile and, just for one brief moment, feel the joy of what I'm remembering.
As the recent weeks and months have passed by I've gradually become aware that this awful time will, itself, become a memory that I will, one day, look back on. Even now, when I think of times and events that have happened since Suzie passed away, it feels strange that I can be 'looking back' on things that are part of my life without her. 
This morning my Bible 'Verse of the Day' was the familiar verse from Psalm 23 that says 'Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil'. I've always thought of this verse as referring to one's own death, but this morning I saw it in a different light. Going through bereavement is, indeed, like walking through the valley of the shadow of death. I am living in a 'shadow' that casts darkness on my world. It diminishes any perception of light and it creates a bitter chill in even the warmest of days. But shadows fade. Shadows are only temporary. Dare I begin to hope that this darkness in which I currently live will, one day, be just a memory? I have to believe that it will.