The great Russian author Leo Tolstoy once wrote, “Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them.”
We all experience loss at some time or another and, feeling that, we naturally become fragile and even broken, especially from the impact of losing someone we love. That certainly was the case this week as my wife and I had to put down our dog, Sirius, on Tuesday. With all of our children grown and now gone from home, he had become our replacement child over the past 14 years. Even with the blessings of two grandchildren, Sirius would not relinquish that role. Sure, he was only a dog, but his unfailing devotion to us was more than enough to capture our hearts.
So, as I initially sat down to try to compose this week’s inspirational offering, I found it hard to grasp onto something even resembling positivity. I guess you could say that the tears blinded my vision such that darkness overshadowed any light. Then I came across the following story and I realized that what Tolstoy said was not only true, but it is what those loved ones for whom we grieve would plea of us. I know if he could speak, my dog, Sirius, would gently nip at my ear and say, “Grieving is O.K., but healed and happy is where I always wanted you to be. I lived my entire life wishing only for you – your happiness and your love!”
Without further ado, penned by an unknown author, is The Dark Candle.
A man had a little daughter, an only and much beloved child. He lived only for her, she was his life. So when she became ill and her illness resisted the efforts of the best obtainable physicians, he became like a man possessed, moving heaven and earth to bring about her restoration to health.
His best efforts proved fruitless, however, and the child eventually passed away. The father was totally irreconcilable. He became a bitter recluse, shutting himself away from his many friends, refusing every activity that might restore his poise and bring him back to his normal self.
Then one night he had a dream. He was in heaven and witnessing a grand pageant of all the little child angels. They were marching in an apparently endless line past the Great White Throne. Every white-robed, angelic tot carried a candle. He noticed, however, that one child’s candle was not lit. Then he saw that the child with the dark candle was his own little girl. Rushing towards her, while the pageant faltered, he seized her in his arms, caressed her tenderly, and asked, “How is that your candle is the only one not lit?” “Father, they often relight it, but your tears always put it out again,” she said.
Just then he awoke from his dream. The lesson was crystal clear, and its effects were immediate. From that hour on he was no longer a recluse, but mingled freely and cheerfully with his former friends and associates. No longer would his little darling’s candle be extinguished by his useless tears.
“You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.” ? Anne Lamott
Have an AWE-full weekend!
William J. “Bill” Bacqué