Don't worry, there won't be flannel, or rather, there won't be much flannel.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Fleeting, inadequate things

Today, I attend a funeral. A co-worker I, unfortunately, only knew for a little while. Yet half the horizon has disappeared with her.

There is just silence, a yawning silence. When something like this happens I want to say something to make everything better. But my mouth stops, my tongue remains still and I probably come off cold, unfeeling. Words are fleeting inadequate things used to describe the world around us. The problem with this world is that parts of it remain hidden from us, unexplainable and those tools, words, just fail so miserably. Nothing can describe death, nothing can describe the yawning blackness hidden in the depths of the gut. Those feelings belong in a wordless place, a nameless place, a place removed from the common sense of language. An Other place, beneath the veneer of civilization, hidden in the depths of a wordless cry, a scream, a sob.

I bid you a sweet sleep, a deep rest, a good-bye. You will be missed.

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