2/2024
It’s not as scary as it sounds.
My best friend is haunted by the people who love her.
You may think it morbid and I understand but consider the adverse perspective:
How inspiring is it that not even death can stop them from getting to her?
They come in dreams and via lady bugs to let her know they’ll never leave her. A mist on her arm when there’s no trace of humidity. A flickering light in a room otherwise unaffected.
I can’t imagine what it’s like to be loved so deeply.
It has never once occurred to me that I might have angels.
By my grave, and weep.
I am not there,
I do not sleep—
I am the thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints in snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle, autumn rain.
– Clare Harner