This is incredible; what a beautiful soul Jackson surely was... I am viscerally saddened by having read this, but beyond grateful for the crucial truths within. As a seventy-four-year-old grandmother, I have experienced many losses in my life, beginning with the loss of my father, when I was four. As an adult, multiple miscarriages came along, but I also was eventually to give birth to three amazing, beloved children. As we all surely must know, at the age I am now, losses one looks back upon are as plentiful as raindrops in a sudden shower; they occupy an entirely different category than does a loss such as Jackson's, whose life was ended so tragically prematurely. Four years ago, my mom died at age ninety-eight (having remained a widow for the rest of her life, after losing my dad.) The death of my husband, at age ninety, followed the next year. (Neither death was in any way related to Covid, nor to the subsequent medical interventions, which had not been sought.) My children and grandchildren offer sustenance, and (often) much joy -- but nothing quite equals the connection of compassionate souls connected by loss. Near, or far (in person, or in one's writings), commonalities -- enlarged, and deepened, by just the right words -- can convey so very, very much. Thank you for this, which is a pitifully inadequate phrase for the deep gratitude which I feel.
This is incredible; what a beautiful soul Jackson surely was... I am viscerally saddened by having read this, but beyond grateful for the crucial truths within. As a seventy-four-year-old grandmother, I have experienced many losses in my life, beginning with the loss of my father, when I was four. As an adult, multiple miscarriages came along, but I also was eventually to give birth to three amazing, beloved children. As we all surely must know, at the age I am now, losses one looks back upon are as plentiful as raindrops in a sudden shower; they occupy an entirely different category than does a loss such as Jackson's, whose life was ended so tragically prematurely. Four years ago, my mom died at age ninety-eight (having remained a widow for the rest of her life, after losing my dad.) The death of my husband, at age ninety, followed the next year. (Neither death was in any way related to Covid, nor to the subsequent medical interventions, which had not been sought.) My children and grandchildren offer sustenance, and (often) much joy -- but nothing quite equals the connection of compassionate souls connected by loss. Near, or far (in person, or in one's writings), commonalities -- enlarged, and deepened, by just the right words -- can convey so very, very much. Thank you for this, which is a pitifully inadequate phrase for the deep gratitude which I feel.
Beautiful piece. Thank you.