Wednesday, January 28, 2009

Grief can destroy you -- or focus you. You can decide a relationship was all for nothing if it had to end in death, and you alone. Or you can realize that every moment of it had more meaning than you dared to recognize at that time, so much meaning it scared you, so you just lived, just took for granted the love and laughter of each day, and didn't allow yourself to consider the sacredness of it. But when it's over and you're alone, you begin to see that it wasn't just a movie or a dinner together, not just watching sunsets together, not just scrubbing a floor or washing dishes together or worrying over a high electricity bill. It was everything, it was the why of life, every event and precious moment of it. The answer to the mystery of existence is the love you shared sometimes so imperfectly, and when the loss wakes you to the deeper beauty of it, the deeper sanctity of it, you can't get off your knees for a long time, you're driven to your knees not by the weight of loss but by gratitude for what preceded the loss. And the ache is always there, but one day not the emptiness, because to nurture the emptiness, to take solace in it, is to disrespect the gift of life.
-odd hours, dean koontz

wow. i want to love like that.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Loved this fragment of Odd Hours. One of the highlights of the book, frankly. Koontz really has a way of putting thoughts into words that sometimes gives me a chill and simultaneously make me feel warm and fuzzy :) Even though I don't always like everything in his books, everyone I've read has something that makes it worth reading. I'm glad other people read this and found the text or the idea behind it (or both) remarkable.