TESTIMONIES

 

 

The loss of a loved one is a shipwreck, a storm,
but between the waves, there is life

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A few years ago, a young man who had just lost his friend, posted on the internet, this simple sentence:

 "My friend just died. I don't know what to do."

Among the many messages of support he received, one in particular, caught his attention: that of an old man, who had lost many loved ones ...
I let you discover it:

"Let me tell you something: I am old.
That means that I have survived (at least until now). It also means that many people I knew and loved are gone.
I have seen friends die, best friends, acquaintances, colleagues. I have seen my dad, my mom, my grandparents die. I saw the love of my life die. I've seen loved ones die, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a whole bunch of other people. I didn't have any children, and I can't even imagine the pain of losing a son or daughter...

But here is my modest contribution:

I wish I could tell you that we get used to the fact that people die. But I, for one, have never been able to get used to it. And to tell you the truth, I don't want to. The truth is that it tears me apart in the most excruciating way when someone I love dies, no matter what the circumstances.

But I don't want to feel nothing. I don't want it to be just "a thing that passes". My scars, my pain, are a legacy of the love I had for this person, of the relationship we had the chance to live together. And if the wound is deep, it means that this love was deep too. So let it be.

(by Omar Hamdi)

Our scars are a legacy of our lives. They attest that we can love deeply, live deeply, be wounded in the depths of our souls and still live, and still love.

And the scab that covers the wound is stronger than the flesh was.
Scars are the legacy of our life. They are only ugly to those who cannot see.
And as for the pain, and as for the absence, you will see that they come and go, much like the waves do.

The loss of a loved one is a shipwreck, a storm

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When the ship sinks, at first you drown, with pieces of wreckage floating all around you. All this debris that only painfully reminds you of the beauty, the brilliance, the past splendor of this ship that was, and is no more.
And this is all you can do: float. You will look for a piece of wreckage, you will hold on to it for a while. It may be a material object. It could be a happy memory, a photograph. It could also be another person, shipwrecked like you, who is also trying to stay afloat.
For a while, all you can do to save yourself is float, tossed by the elements. Try to stay alive.

At first you'll be caught in the middle of the storm, thirty-meter waves bearing down on you mercilessly. They come every ten seconds, and they don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on, endure, float.

(by Noveland Sayson)

After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, the waves will still be huge, but you'll find that they'll be a little more spaced out, they'll give you a little more breathing room. Of course, when they crash on you, they always swallow you up, dragging you down in a whirlpool of foam. But in the meantime, you can breathe, you can live.

You will never know in advance what will trigger this wave of sorrow. It could be a song, a photo, a street crossing, the smell of a hot cup of coffee. It could be anything and everything... and the waves keep breaking over you.

But between the waves, there is life...

And after a while, you'll see that the waves will become slightly less threatening.
Maybe the biggest ones will be twenty meters long. Or fifteen meters. And even if the waves are always present, even if there are always waves, they continue to be spaced.
 

From now on, you have time to see them coming. A birthday, an

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anniversary, a family Christmas ... You see them coming, most of the time, and you have time to prepare.
And when the wave finally breaks over you, you know that somehow you'll make it out the other side. Completely soaked, coughing, still clinging to your little makeshift raft, but you'll get out.

So here's an old man's advice, do with it what you will. The ebb and flow of the waves will never stop, and in a way, that's good. But you will learn in time that the worst of the storms can be survived. And that more waves will come. And that you will survive them, too.

 
If you're lucky, you'll have a lot of scars left by a lot of loves. And a lot of wrecks, too."


                                                                                                                           (Source INTERNET) 

 

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 You have to want to survive the death of a loved one

 How to survive the atrocious loss of several loved ones, gone at the same time?
 Martin GRAY in his "book of life" evokes it thus:

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"The death of loved ones is a cyclone that sucks you in, into which you can be dragged and drown. You have to get away from the cyclone. You have to want to survive.

And it is in yourself, only in yourself and by yourself, that you can decide to overcome the despair of death. Through action and thought, we must build barriers against this despair, and then turn towards others, towards life...

To be faithful to those who have died is not to lock oneself up in one's pain. We must continue to sow our dreams, to dig our furrow straight and deep, as they would have done themselves or as we would have done with them and for them.

To be faithful to those who have died is to live as they would have lived and make them live in us."

                                                                                                    Martin GRAY - "The Book of Life" -


Martin Gray, is a French-American writer, of Jewish-Polish origin.

 He is known for his book "In the Name of All My Own" in which he describes the tragedy of having lost his entire family twice, first in the Nazi extermination camps, then in the fire of his house in the South of France.