Started by wilder, October 15, 2019, 10:22:42 PM
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QuoteA box of darkness is a gift, my mother used to say. Because there couldbe anything inside it, I suppose . . . or nothing.But. If the passage into death is as unconscious as the descent throughdreams into sleep, then maybe, just maybe, what waits on the other sideisn't any less real for being unimaginable. Maybe the leap from death intolife is just as sudden. Maybe we only have to let go of those we've lovedprecisely so that whatever eventual reunion we have is all the more joyous.I'd like to believe that. But I can't know. And I'm out of practice attaking things on faith.What I do know is that so much of what haunts us does so because, onsome level, we want it to. We yearn for it, as much as it yearns for us, orwhat it thinks is us.Come in, into me. Come inside. I'm empty. I'm a haunted house.( say that you want me, come back and haunt me )I remember the Priest, like I remember them all. Whether they choose tostay, or not.Whether or not they choose to pass through, and leave me alone again.Because haunting, in essence, is the refusal to let go, on both sides. Therefusal to forgive something for changing, or leaving. Even if—even when—you can't remember what you're holding on to anymore. Or why.One day, I'm going to be faced with that choice myself. We all are.The best we can ever do is work on getting ready.