When you died, my son, the music did not stop. My life did not end.
Maybe I couldn’t hear the music. Maybe the pain and grief were too loud.
Maybe it had grown so slow and dissonant that I did not recognize it.
It did not sound like music then. And I thought that life had stopped.
That life had ended. Mine with yours.
And somehow life kept going on and on and it still goes on.
The music did not stop. But my dance…
Where I fell. Was that just part of it?
Where people rushed in and helped us up? Was that just part of the dance?
To get up and stumble and to walk
The dance like the music was so different
Maybe I just didn’t recognize it.
Life goes on. But it is not the same.
The music continues, but it has changed.
And that dance we all continue to move.
And sometimes this is the hardest truth.
Life did not end with yours. The music did not stop with yours. And while your dance ended, the dance continues.