DECEMBER 21
I dreamed I fell through a trap door—into subterranean ter-
rors.
—HOYT HICKMANIt will always be there—the occasion of loss, the memory of
its onset and pain, the diminishing but real possibility that
at any moment we could be plunged back into it.
There is a way in which we would not want this otherwise.
To take away all the sharpness of our loss could take away
the intensity of our relationship with the loved one.
At first, we are always falling through the trapdoor. This
image occurred to me again and again—as it did to my
husband—in those early years of dealing with the death of
our daughter.
But it is possible to climb back out, or to reestablish our
footing after the trapdoor drops. And in time, we will find
we have some choice about it—whether we will skirt that
close to emotional crisis or not. It is not always a bad choice
to do so. It is good news when we find we have a choice at
all.
Even through the experience of this pain, I am grateful for the in-
tensity of my love for the one I have lost.