"When a language dies, so much more than words are lost. Language is the dwelling place of ideas that do not exist anywhere else."
Mystics have long spoken of “kenosis,” the emptying out of the individual soul so that in negation we merge with the infinite.
“Oh, you know, you realize that grief is perhaps the last and final translation of love. And I think, you know, this is the last act of loving someone. And you realize that it will never end. You get to do this, to translate this last act of love for the rest of your life. And so, you know, it's– really, her absence is felt every day.
“And ever since I lost her, I felt that my life has been lived in only two days, if that makes any sense. You know, there’s the today, where she is not here, and then the vast and endless yesterday where she was, even though it’s been three years since. How many months and days? But I only see it in — with one demarcation. Two days — today without my mother, and yesterday, when she was alive. That’s all I see. That’s how I see my life now.”
-Ocean Vuong, NPR