He tells me again that “people do not understand, they think I am taking this too well.” I am thinking to myself that I do not see how anyone could mistake this man’s grief. How could anyone not see how heavily his grief lays upon all things? As this man walks, his grief precedes him. I am thinking that he apologizes for interrupting me, but he should apologize for bringing his grief with him. As he speaks to me, I feel his grief. My eyes tear up. Then I remember my own mother’s death, there are no specifics and no details, it is simply a matter of the grief. He speaks to me some more and his words are not important. Again I feel my eyes burning; it hurts to be near him. I wish for him to go away. I know that there are things that I may do to help him, but first he must go away. I will help him when my intellect returns to replace my grief – my grief that is his grief.
He Brought His Grief With Him
He brought his grief with him. He apologized for interrupting me. He was completely unconscious of his thoughts and emotions. I think that he believed that if he could control the universe that is visible to him that he could ultimately control his universe. He brought his grief with him. It weighed heavily in the air and when he sat across from me I could feel my chest contract and the breathlessness followed. My eyes teared up as if it was my own grief. He told me that people did not understand. I do not wish to feel his grief but it pervades the atmosphere like humidity, it is heavy and its weight is laying on all of the surfaces in my office. The round conference table stands between us and I am grateful for its presence. The conference table stands as an anchor to reality in a world where people die and spiritual things happen which have no physical explanation.
