2. celebrate or acknowledge an anniversary.
Origin: late, middle English. From old French observer. From Latin observare‘to watch’.
1. a deeply distressing or disturbing experience.
Origin: late 18th cent. From Greek, literally ‘wound’.
1. the act of killing oneself intentionally.
Origin: mid 17th cent.: from modern Latin suicida‘act of suicide,’suicidium‘person who commits suicide,’ from Latin sui ‘of oneself’ + caedere‘kill’.
*give (someone) greater knowledge and understanding about a subject or situation;
*give (someone) spiritual knowledge or insight
*archaic shed light on (an object)
Origin: Middle English (in the sense ‘make luminous’; formerly also as inlighten): in early use from Old English inlihtan‘to shine’
1. the method of human communication, either spoken or written, consisting of the use of words in a structured and conventional way
Origin: Middle English: from Old French langage, based on the Latin lingua‘tongue’.
Words can never explain or define our lives, our pain, our traumas, or our historical stories and the meanings behind them. We use words because we cannot yet convey to another person what it is we feel, how deep our love is, how deep our well of pain goes, or how, in the face of fear or danger, we found real bravery. We are as yet unable to pass on feeling from one person to another in the same way that we can easily pass on a word, a phrase, or a book. In this way, we can only use small symbols, letters, words, to pass on what it is we’re going through, what it is we live through, what it is we want to tell someone, how it is we want them to feel.
Some choose not to pass those words on at all.
We can never find the meaning or the origin of our feelings in the smattering of a few letters pressed together. We can never find the cause or the reason in those defined terms. It is, at best, a lame attempt to convey or understand. We will never find in them understanding or true knowledge – those we must find within ourselves. We will never know the why behind the words and their causes, what impact they’ve had on the writer and the reader.
We can and often do seek solace in those words, however. As writers and as readers.
I think of you, the words you chose not to share, suffering instead in an absence of words, in your silence; the words pressing forth from my own soul, in a chemical reaction to your silence and action, written words – an attempt at understanding my own pain and the torment I go through; the words shared with me from loved ones, mine and yours. In turn, I choose to share my words in hopes of enlightening others. I cannot ever understand but hope I can offer understanding. For others, yes, but mostly myself.
I have forgiven you. Now I must forgive myself.