Baruch dayan ha-emet. Blessed is a judge of truth. Funny how I’m okay with the Hebrew words, and appreciate the meaning and depth of them when I hate the culture I grew up in and don’t count myself as religious at all.
Blessed. As in honoured. As in known. There is truth and justice. The source and energy behind the world knew that the energy of my uncle was better off not in the world that we see. The energy is there. My uncles energy is still here. His consciousness. Not his body. Now more connected to the energy of infinity.
It doesn’t hurt because it hurts (too much for it to hurt just yet). There is just nothing to say. Nothing to write. So I’m not going to try. It’s just being. With completely not knowing what to do with myself.
My father will be sitting for a week. A few months ago he did for his eldest sister. I miss Aunt B. It hurts to see her number on my phone. I want to live in their honour. And I don’t want my father to have to sit a third time.
I never knew Uncle A. In a sense I’m actually grateful for that. I knew his daughters a tad but not much.
BDE. There is truth. There is justice. We’re living connected to a source and part of it. That’s what those words mean to me.