Brian / Jo Ann Webb-- Krystal Duss's Mom (Michele through Precious Memorials )
Dear Michele,
You have created a beautiful website for Brian. I can tell how much you love him through the images you have created on your loving tribute to him. I am so sorry for your loss, Brian's Mom's loss, and his children's loss. Brian has absolutely stunning light blue eyes.
You have created beautiful graphics for my daughter, Krystal, on Precious Memorials. Thank you for your kindness. Everytime I look at one of the lovely graphics you made for my Krystal, I will think of you and your Brian.
With gentle thoughts and love,
Jo Ann Webb, Krystal's Mom
krystal-long-duss.memory-of.com
Grief Is A Tidal Wave.
Grief is a tidal wave that over takes you, smashes down upon you with unimaginable force, sweeps you up into its darkness,
where you tumble and crash against unidentifiable surfaces, only to be thrown out on an unknown beach, bruised, reshaped.
Grief means not being able to read more than two sentences at a time. It is walking into rooms with intention that suddenly vanishes.
Grief is three o'clock sweats that won't stop. It is dreadful Sundays, and Mondays that are no better. It makes you look for a face in the crowd, knowing full well the face we want cannot be found in that crowd.
Grief is utter aloneless that razes the rational mind and makes room for the phantasmagoric. It makes you suddenly get up or leave in the middle of a meeting, without saying a word.
Grief makes what others think of you mot. It shears away the masks of normal life and forces brutal honesty out of your mouth before propriety can stop you. It shoves away so-called friends, and rewrites your address book for you.
Grief makes you laugh over people who cry over spilt milk, right to their faces. It tells the world that you are untouchable at the very moment when touch is the only contact that might reach you. It makes lepers out of upstanding citizens.
Grief discriminates against no one. It kills. Maimes. And cripples. It is the ashes from which the phoenix rises, and the mettle of rebirth. It returns life to the living dead. It teaches that there is nothing absolutely true or untrue. It humbles. It shrouds. It blackens. It enlightens.
Grief will make a new person out of you, if it doesn't kill you in the making.
from Companion Through the Darkness by Stephanie Ericsson
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