Day after Dad's Inquest

Probably more about the inquest later, but yesterday what amazed me was (and this is going to sound cheeeesey) love. You know how it is when you're someplace you dont know, and the brain works in such a way that you create little landmarks to create comfort. Well mine does anyway. I got to know the loo's in Leamington Spa Pump rooms very well, and the coffee shop i the old Pump Rooms which was close to the Town Hall where the coroner's court was held. The very, very good thing that happens when someone close to you dies, is that all the crap get's swept away for seconds at a time lol, and you get to notice the flow more. In this flow, I noticed how clean the loo's were, the real and genuine empathy of the coroner towards my mum, how strong my love was for Dad, despite all my new feelings about the power struggles in our house as I was growing up. All these things seem to me to be an expression of love, whether its for someone you meet once, someone you'll never meet, or someone you've met many, many times. I found it very inspiring, that love has such a quality. I'm not sure how to distinguish between it and attatchment, maybe love flows and carries all with it, whereas attachment is blind and grasping, and fears that flow. I think a lot of the qualities we think of love are actually attachment, I'm not quite sure how clean public toilets, smiles from public servents and still loving someone despite and becuase of an awful lot of stuff are what I would really feel as love, but I do. I'm glad I do too, because it's something to have faith in and be faithful too, which again is love. I wonder if what we/I really hate when someone dies is the clarity? The seperation is inevitable, and I think I'm prepared for that, but the whoosh of the rest of it is quite something else.