My grandmother died thirty-eight years ago today. My family had moved out to one of the suburbs near where she was living, in order to be closer to her (and probably to avoid the encroaching urban blight, which has since decimated the old neighborhood), but we were only in that new house a short time before Gran died.
I'm amazed at grief's ability to re-appear, fresh and urgent, even after such a long time. Fortunately, however, unlike the first time an intense grief shows up, a long-ago loss arrives and evanesces within a short time.
But it hangs around long enough to take the breath away once again, and even unleash a torrent of tears now and again....
Blessings and peace to one and all,
Fr. Tim, SJ
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