A voice hissed: "He sheds tears!"
It was taken up around the ring. "Usul gives moisture to the dead!"
He felt fingers touch his damp cheek, heard the awed whispers.
Jessica, hearing the voices, felt the depth of the experience, realized what terrible inhibitions there must be against shedding tears. She focused on the words: "He gives moisture to the dead." It was a gift to the shadow world--tears. They would be sacred beyond a doubt.
today i learned a brother in my extended online hermetic family lost his son. sitting here in my cubicle at work, i was surprised by the tears rolling down my face. i barely know him, really. we've argued as often as we've talked. we've never met in the flesh. yet the pain i feel at the horror of his loss is no less real. my own world would become a desert wasteland if it happened to me. no man should have to face what he must now, and my words of condolence are so inept, inadequate. it is not fair. it is not right. i weep for his loss, for the pain his family must face.
but he does not face it alone. he and his wife will cry together. others in our extended family will shed tears with him as well. we weep together in sorrow at the passing of beauty and life, and perhaps there is comfort and strength to be found in the sacred offering to the shadow world of our mingled tears.
may grace and peace be with you and your family in this time of sorrow, my brother.