Happy Wednesday ladies and gentlemen. People of young and old. We are gathered here today to mourn a very important man.
Perhaps, he was more of a man. He was a concept. A force of nature. A saint that walked among us.
And while I know the wounds are still fresh, the crying at the office persists and mourners on Broad Street continue their blood curdling wails, we have no choice but to march on. We must continue. Carson would have wanted that.
But it still hurts. It’s hard to harness that searing anger. The cataclysmic grief that you feel in the pit of your stomach. Every time you open your mouth, a despairing moan tries to escape and announce to the world, “I AM BROKEN.” You’re trying to put on a brave face for your loved ones but the truth is, you’ll never be the same. You’ll never love like that again.
And so, I present to you a coping plan for tonight. A little self care, if you will. When you get home from work today, light a few candles. Loosen that tie. Draw a warm bath. Not too hot, not too cold. Just right. Pour a tall glass of spirits, whatever you like. But make it strong. Bring it into the bathroom with you. Get into that tub, dim the lights, and play this beautiful tempo.
Feel all those feelings you’ve been suppressing for so long. Go ahead. Let it hurt. Lock the door so your concerned housemates can’t enter the bathroom and ask if you’re okay. The healing process is going to take a while but what’s life without a little loss and pain? We can’t bring Carson Wentz’s left ACL back. I know, I wish we could too. All we can do is remember, it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.
Hallelujah.