Better to Have Loved

I was in my home away from home Sunday evening (O'Hare) and decided I was ready to start Surviving Death:  What Loss Taught Me about Love, Joy and Meaning by Kate O'Neill.  I would finish the book the same night.  Twice, I had to stop, close the e-reader, breathe, remember I was in O'Hare, and have a few sips of water before beginning again.

I could talk about how I liked the style and structure of the book, the transitions, or the beautiful way she paints scenes so the reader feels like she is peeking in with permission from an unseen corner. I could talk about how there were thoughts that I would never be able to articulate (a section on prayer, for example) but as I read her words, I silently whispered "yes".  I could mention that the quotations were apt intros.

But I'd rather talk about how I felt when I read it.

It's taken me a few days to even be able to articulate these few clumsy words.  My heart ached while reading the book.  I had not only a personal connection to process, but this book conjured up my own losses (and not just deaths) in many different ways.  I thought about the times where people (or events) took a slow, heavy toll and other moments where very suddenly, well, things were just going to be different.

I had an hour and a half delay on the tarmac so I finished the book about fifteen minutes into the flight, leaving me another hour or so with my thoughts and a bumpy ride.  That's when an achy heart turned hopeful and somewhere between 28,000 and 10,000 feet, I let a few things fall.  The weight lost while landing gave me a desire to hug strangers in the airport.  (I didn't of course as people who like to build rockets aren't always huggers.)

Kate's right: "Love wins."