When they were little, our three children played in the stream beyond the falls, sailing boats made of rhododendron leaves, and when they got a little older, they swam in the pool under the falls.
I was there Saturday morning, very early. And when I turned to go, I saw that someone had made a small cairn across the tumbling water. It guards Josh, I thought. It waits there and watches.
It's a beautiful spot, and I could imagine Josh saying, "Thank you, Mom. This was a very good place for all of us." But . . .
Don't say it's not really so bad. Because it is. Death is awful, demonic. *** People sometimes think things are more awful than they really are. Such people need to be corrected -- gently, eventually. But no one thinks death is more awful than it is.
~ Nicholas Wolterstorff, Lament for a Son