Tell me about the times that we might have stayed up late laughing, snacking and talking. Tell me about the shopping and movies we might have shared. Tell me how you love me. If our souls will be peaceful, our minds can hear the words of comfort from those who love us from the other side of the vail. If we let them tell us all that is in their hearts, our pain will be swallowed up in assurance.
Immortals gladly do what weak mortals struggle to do.
Any time we presume to judge another person, we are usurping the role of God. Criticism is always presumptuous and ungracious. And that is the problem with anger. It presumes that my view is the standard of truth. It exalts my needs while dismissing yours.