SEPTEMBER 16
But I am no more I,
Nor is my house now my house.
—FEDERICO GARCÍA LORCAThe death of a loved one shifts the whole foundation of our
life. Nothing is as it was. Even what was most familiar seems
in a strange way unfamiliar. It is as though we had to learn
a new language, a new way of seeing. Even the face in the
mirror sometimes seems the face of a stranger.
What are we to make of this? Just that we truly have, in
a way, entered a new country. Though the terrain looks
much the same and many of the people are the same people,
there is a different light over everything.
Remember how long it took, when you moved to a new
house or a new town, for it to seem like home? It is the same
with any major life change. We will get used to this new
land, this new arrangement of people and relationships. But
it will take time—time to look around, to be startled, to be
brought up short, again and again. An inner lurch of protest
before we acknowledge—Oh, yes, it’s different now.
I have entered a new country. Of course it feels strange.