Seneca,

Today’s letter touches on a tough subject for most folks.  Grief is a hard thing.  I’m not sure that I entirely agree that our greiving is for others, but I do entirely agree that our watching over ourselves contributes to the extended suffering.

It’s a funny thing, our intuition, whether natural or acculturated, is such that after a great loss, if we find ourselves enjoying some small thing or laughing, we reprimand ourselves severely.  As if our every waking moment is to build a monument of grief.  The extent of our pain is not a measure of our love, and that’s a strangely bitter pill to swallow.

My reading today was just the first part of the letter, and I look forward to finishing it.

Farewell.

Part of Michel Daw’s Reading Plan of Seneca’s Letters.