I got this quote in my email this morning, “Sorrow makes us all children again, and destroys all differences of intellect.” Apparently Ralph Waldo Emerson said that. I didn’t know, but then I am not a reader of classical literature. Ralph had it right, though.
When I was crying every day, more times than I wished to count, I was like a child. My younger brothers and sisters were the “grown ones.” They cared for me, talked to me, listened, and coached. It was odd, as I am significantly older than all of them, and used to being the caregiver. Even my next-to-me brother who is nearly eight years younger signed off an email as “your big brother,” and I know he did this because he simply forgot he was younger than I. He was giving me comfort.
My intellect seemed to be gone, as well. I couldn’t read, because I couldn’t concentrate. I didn’t even feel the cold or heat of the weather. I forgot things, and I have always had an incredible memory. Looking back, that period is a blur.
So now that I am no longer in a place of deep sorrow, I can see my intellect returning. Thank God, I say to that! Being an emotional and intellectual lump is not a state I appreciated or enjoyed. Life is much better on the other side of the box of tissues, and I rejoice in each day’s opportunities. I sort of liked being taken care of, though, and I don’t doubt for a minute that my siblings will continue to look after me. It’s what we do for each other.