Thursday, January 5, 2012

Books

I’ve started reading and collecting books about death.

That sounds really morbid. Let me explain.

I started reading this book, Intimate Death, by Marie de Hennezel. And it speaks to my soul. Marie worked with people who were dying for years, and her book holds life and death, mourning and hope, in balance. Every time I pick it up, I learn something new about myself. I feel like she knows me, and fully knows what I’m going through.

And so I’m collecting other books written by people who have experienced the death of a loved one. C.S. Lewis’ A Grief Observed, about the death of his wife; Henri Nouwen’s A Sorrow Shared, about the death of his mother; Sheldon Vanauken’s A Severe Mercy, about the death of his wife (which I’ve already read, but may read again); Madeleine L’Engle’s Two-Part Invention, about the life and death of her husband (which I’ve already read, but may read again).

These books aren’t morbid, they aren’t part of some weird fascination on death. But they speak truth about mortality in ways that most books don’t. The speak truth about grief that is glossed over by many.

And more than anything, they show me that I am not alone.

3 comments:

  1. You're definitely not alone! You have community in books and in real life, people who have been through loss, and people who maybe haven't in quite the same way but will still try to be there for you all the same.

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