He spoke about missing his deceased wife and ultimately we agreed that in spite of all the king's horses and all the king's men, one of most healing things imaginable, rests simply in our own hearts. It has much to do with discovering certain qualities of honor and perhaps living life in a way that we imagine might make them proud.
Everyone has lost someone they've loved. Yet, some folks choose to wear grief like an anchor, while others ultimately learn to flourish because of it.
And this is for you, my friend:
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
~ From: "Song of Myself",Leaves of Grass, Walt Whitman