Top positive review
On October 14th 2004 my world as I had known it came to a close and what followed was a life I felt quite foreign to and unable to easily navigate around in
Reviewed in the United States on October 2, 2017
Your words lanced a festering wound that has been squeezing at the soul of me for over a decade now… well to be precise it will be exactly 13 years in just 13 more days. On October 14th 2004 my world as I had known it came to a close and what followed was a life I felt quite foreign to and unable to easily navigate around in. The experience had left me searching, more like desperately craving a different meaning, a different explanation, a different dialogue to what I had walked into. One day I was a 30-year-old married woman with 3 young children, no different from the rest of us swiftly moving along this journey in life, then the next day I was wearing a forever awkward title of widow. I felt I had no place, no place among my peers, who feared the truth of what I had become and no place among the later population who more frequently wore the title of widow. Your words though, Caleb Wilde, hit directly what my last decade had been searching for, the lack of fear and the lack of shame. That was exactly what enveloped my mind and soul the day my Brian died… I could not look into that casket for fear of seeing the truth in its entirety and for that I felt shame. I struggled throughout the years as I raised the children in the absence of their father, forever chasing a protocol of how it should be done if he was here. Facing the judgment of others, the feelings of being ostracized and so often forgotten. How the weight of his death hung about my neck like a noose that was certain to be my demise. The fear of how my children will statistically end up, seeing that they now were fatherless and I was so very lacking. How much different my story could have been, if my death narrative could have been a positive one. Had I been able to lift the lid of the casket that held my beloved and saw what was truthfully there… his shell that contained his mortality. A mortality that is inevitable of us all and that is nothing to be ashamed of. If I could have just embraced his body and seen what the war had done to him, to perhaps have been connected to his final hours. I knew though, that the story I was told within our society wasn’t a healthy one, it left grief in this every suspended state of “almost there”. Like Caleb had said, “we are all death virgins” and this stage of death and grief are new and unfamiliar to us. It is no longer a dance we partake of, the generations before us teaching us how to gracefully meet each step. It has simply become removed, until it is slammed into our face and the energy and force of death has nowhere to go. It churns within our soul and creates a turmoil we have no strength to control. I have sought for the last 12 years, 11 months and 2 weeks for a satisfaction and a release for that energy. I AM NOT WEIRD nor am I unique in my journey. I am simply a woman who experienced love and tragic loss and can still rightfully have a connection to the deceased. We should be able to feel, express and connect in the death process that doesn’t leave us floundering and searching for “closure”, which chapter 14 “Active Remembering” tells us that there isn’t one and that is ok! I am so very relieved to find your words and your challenge for the death negative narrative and how we can find a bit of heaven here on earth. Your book is something deeply spiritual but nowhere near religious. This could be a book that is helpful for those grieving and those who have yet to experience loss. It is the needle in the haystack I have yearned and pined for. Your words are a medicine my soul needed to hear. Thank you, Caleb.