Pressed to move on...

When a child of a worshiper of Allah dies, Allah inquires from His angels:

'Have you taken into your custody the soul of the child of My servant?'

They answer, 'Yes.'

Then He inquires, 'Have you taken into custody the flower of his heart?'

They answer, 'Yes.'

Then He inquires, 'Then what did My servant say?'

They answer, 'He praised You and bore witness that to Allah we belong and to Him we shall return.'

Upon this Allah will say, 'Build for My servant a magnificent mansion in Paradise and name it: the House of Praise.'"

I just came across the most moving blog I have read in yonks. Sandra lost her toddler to a (preventable) car accident one and a half years ago. While her entourage was extremely supportive at the beginning, it seems like now they are pressing her to move on. She is too phony for them, too raw, too cuckoo. Her marriage fell apart a couple of weeks ago, and now the people who supported her most are starting to engage in some serious backbiting. Sandra feels totally misunderstood and betrayed.

I’m not surprised that most religions consider the loss of a child as the single worst thing that can happen to a human being. And I’m not surprised by the negativity and backbiting that surfaces when people have to deal with this level of tragedy, over a period of time, when they don’t have the skills to process such emotions (and does one ever acquire these?).

I’ve left a comment in support, I hope it’s a good one, but it just breaks my heart to see love flounder in such predictable ways when people need it most, and for the stupidest reasons. Just because it hurts both parents too bad, and they deal with it in different ways. Because they both think the other should be doing things differently. Once again, duration is everything. It's easy to be supportive for a month or two. But after that, "she'd better fucking move on".

The painting is by William Bouguereau. The vierge consolatrice is displayed in my home town of Strasbourg. In real life it is a very tall painting, displayed in a crimson room on its own, and very softly lit. It's absolutely haunting, because it is incredibly sad and incredibly comforting and hopeful at the same time. It feels like the Virgin Mary understands and that nobody will judge you, ever. In truth I'm pretty pleased that this painting should be "ours". Sorry I couldn't find a picture with a better definition on the web. The above quote is by Abd al-Alim al-Ashari.