Standing on the side of the road feeling dreadful after the loss of one I love. With my thumb up a small truck pulls to the side, driving the vehicle a small frail old woman with a welcoming smile. Opening the door noticing a clean looking interior the old woman asks where I want to go. Thinking for what must have been an eternity I tell her to drop me off in the next town over. Looking at me the woman says, “can do”. Looking down at the floor board we were off to the next destination.
Thinking about my loss which was obvious to the old woman, she asked if I had lost anything important. Recalling the question in my head seeming so specific to the sadness she is currently seeing on my face. Looking up with so few confidences I say that I lost my wife recently. With minutes passing by the woman tells me to confess my regrets. Obviously tell her that I loved her before she died was my first thought but being around my wife would have been a better reason to admit to this stranger. Feeling insecure the old woman explained to me that moving on is not moving on, with confusion I asked what do you mean? Approaching the town in less than a mile, she told me that loving one is to carry the dead and loved ones separately, like to different pouches. Hopping out of the truck with my bag the woman told me to forget the dead and live with the spirit of your loved one.
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