Grief is another word for love.
I do not know what it is to lose a child, but I know what it is to grieve. In the social media squares I share a quote, or a headline, or more numbers of the dead. But what I am really trying to say is: my heart is breaking.
The children’s bloody and tear stained faces scroll by on the screens. The numbers go up. Around them there are justifications, pontifications, the weighing of sides.
What would happen if we really let our hearts break, allowed those numbers in, gave them their names back, their lives, their loves? What would happen if we collectively allowed ourselves to crack open and grieve what we have become?
Letters from Clare
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