You want the physicist to talk to your family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and that none dies.
You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
And at one point you’d hope the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neutrons whose energy will go on forever.
You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. Read more »
My mother’s death supervened, and this was the greatest blow I had experienced in my life. I worshiped her… I could not resign myself to the loss of a being on whom I counted to make invisible the unavoidable blemishes of my soul.
I had a minor operation, and they gave me an anesthetic that was too strong… I thought I was just out for a minute or so, and I woke up saying, ‘Let’s get on with the operation.’ But, they told me the operation had been over for six hours. Suddenly I had the feeling that this is what happens when we die. It’s terrible to think of waking and discovering something either wonderful or awful, some heaven or hell. But it’s fantastic to realize that what happens when we die is that we simply don’t exist any more. That’s the best news of all.
Quote from Film & dreams: an approach to Bergman (Vlada Petrić, Ingmar Bergman) quoting Ingmar Bergman in Popular Culture - Quote published by Gabrielle 5 months ago ()
'I’m finished as a human being,' she said. 'All you’re looking at is the lingering memory of what I used to be. The most important part of me, what used to be inside, died years ago, and I’m just functioning by auto-memory.'
My name is Gabrielle and I am twenty-eight years old. I began to self-injure at age fifteen -- so nearly thirteen years minus a two year period. This website is one about self-injury (self-harm), made to let self-injurers know that they are not alone and to help their friends and family learn more about self-injury and how it affects their loved one.