"A friend who dies, it’s something of you who dies. ”
No. Living doesn’t mean you ARE really living. Like the rock, air, river, mountains - they are living. When the rocks or pebbles make the road abrasive - it is living. When the wind bends the lively grass in the meadow - it is called living. The sound of rushing waters, the beauty of the mountains, the echoes - all are living. Everything that makes the world magnificent is a very important part of life. People come and go, but sometimes we are the ones who are not letting go.
We are here Kirstine.
“It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.”
― Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can’t Avoid