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“The person who means the most to us turns out to be the one who instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.” ― Henri J.M. Nouwen
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Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality.... ...Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses' Heads Were toward Eternity – Emily Dickinson
I've come for your head like a thief in the Harrowing Night.