
The book wrecked me in ways I had never anticipated. Loss is not only about grief; it is about the stillness that comes after grief, about the void that remains, about how life finds a strange rhythm of movement while the grieving remain frozen in time. The words of Shanghvi seemed like a conversation I never knew I needed; like someone was speaking the thoughts and feelings with which I have always felt an agonizing inability to express. I read about his parents and his dear pet and thought about my losses—with the people I still feel like searching for in places full of people and the voices I try to remember before they fade. Nothing is sugar-coated; there are no platitudes about time healing all wounds. Rather, there is truthfulness, tenderness, and some beauty in the sadness. I went back to reread sentences and to let them spill their weight into my consciousness. It simply reminded me that mourning cannot be overcome; it is an indelible factor of being. Loss does not attempt to redeem the pain but reduces the burden of carrying such an ache alone. And sometimes, that is just enough. QOTD : What made you happy this week ? Share one happy moment you had this week ❤️
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