Dukkha- Samsara

Yes, I'm familiar with Kubler- Ross the stages of grief, but no amount of intellectualizing can deaden the pain and knowing the inevitable won't act as morphine- for us, the survivors we, who are left behind there is no balm no easy anesthesia. Death, suffering is the course of all life the destiny of all things born philosophers, theologians have discussed this ad infinitum... Still, what words can I give you, widow, orphan you, almost- mother marred by miscarriage and to you- writhing with disease - to you left by betrayal there are none- sympathy seems cruel when all that is needed is an ear, an open heart. And I too, must now face this- thrust into the ugly grip of death (my own mother's dying) even through the long lingering the wearisome vigil my weeping waits- it has not unleashed... Numbed, I've always held hurt within, stoic, though tortured nonetheless I'm teetering on the verge of- a torrent of tears.