這篇文章讓人感覺淡淡的悲傷，但是久久回味~~

不知為啥，心裡會覺得很堵~

http://forum.putclub.com/viewthread.php?tid=148782&extra=page%3D1



This I Believe is independently produced by Jay Allison and Dan Gediman with John Gregory and Viki Merrick. Our new book This I Believe Volume 2 collecting 75 essays from the series is now available from the NPR shop and from npr.org/thisibelieve.



I believe in mystery.
I believe in family.
I believe in being who I am.
I believe in the power of failure.
And I believe normal life is extraordinary.

This I believe.



Our This I Believe essay today comes from Michael Newland of Santa Rosa California. Newland is an archaeologist. He says that in his work he discovers the way different cultures face death. He’s also discovered how to face it in his own life. Here is our series curator, independent producer Jay Allison.



Michael Newland says that in most cultures to grieve for someone is to honor him and it’s in our society where honor is important, particularly among men. It has become disconnected from grieving. This essay he says is a way to honor his late son. Here is Michael Newland with his essay for this I believe.



I believe that grieving is good for you. As a culture I feel we’ve forgotten how to grieve. And last year, I had the opportunity to remember. My wife was 7 months pregnant when her blood pressure spite. Her liver started to shut down. So the doctors performed a Cesarean and our son was delivered to save both of their lives. The first time I saw my son, he was in an incubator with nurses clearing his airways. He looked at me, like a dolphin surfacing to look at a fisherman and re-submerged when the team took him away to stabilize him. He was the smallest, most fragile baby I'd ever seen. Over the next two weeks, my wife's health stabilized. My son's condition, however, deteriorated. The lungs of premature babies are as delicate and tenuous as a spider web, and they shred at the slightest pressure. I wanted to put him inside my chest and give him my lungs to breathe with. We went from holding him, to putting a hand on his head, to, at the end, with all the tubes and wires, only being able to lay one finger on the back of his hand. His lungs failed, and we had to let him go.



We never heard him cry. My wife and I, first time parents, held him as he died, and we bathed him, washed his hair and dressed him before he was cremated. In my mind, I can see an angel close her hand around my son like he was a gold coin and slip him into her pocket. As each day passes, you close your eyes and let your grief slide through your fingers. One rough, cold link after another, until your loss set deep inside you. It’s a give and take between you and your grief, a tension that rolls your emotions back and forth. And at first you are certain that your life is going to capsize and you were drown. Eventually, the grief will ground you and give you stability in trouble times. I am a better husband, a better father and a better man from my loss. I'm kinder, more empathetic and have different priorities. Our marriage was reforged. The impurity’s burned out of the relationship by the furnace of our son’s death. To be with your child nearly every minute of his life is a gift few parents get, and my son died in the arms of people who loved him.



Ten months ago, my wife gave birth to our healthy daughter, and I am filled with a joy made greater by the loss of my son, because I know now what we have. The angel has extended her open hand to me. When my daughter turned to look at me for the first time, I picked her up and held her with everything I had.



Michael Newland with this essay for This I Believe. Newland wrote this essay as a part of a hospice grief group. He wanted to share with others particularly other men who have lost someone they honored. As always we invite you to submit an essay of your own to our series at npr.org/thisibelieve. You’ll find all the information. For This I Believe, I’m Jay Allison.



Jay Allison is coeditor with Dan Gediman, John Gregory and Viki Merrick of the new book This I Believe Volume 2, more personal philosophies of remarkable men and women.

Support for This I Believe, comes from potential retirement.

那 位 大 大 請 有 空 翻 譯 為 中 文 ﹐ 功 德 無 量 。

痛 苦 的 問 題 ﹐ 聽 說 是 基 督 教 教 義 三 大 基 本 難 題 之 一 。好 像 還 沒 有 答 案 。

抱歉 剛仔係看了 原始網站 有著作權之虞 故刪之

謝 謝 火 星 人 大 大 ﹐ 感 恩

今天我們的 《我相信 》故事來自加利福尼亞州 圣丹羅斯的馬克 紐蘭。紐蘭是

一位考古學家。他說在他的工作中，他發現了不同的文化面對死亡的方式。現在

他在自己的生活中來體驗如何去面對死亡。以上故事系列編導，獨立製片人 杰伊

埃利斯說。

馬克紐蘭說，在大多數文化中，為某人悲痛是一種對死者的尊敬，然而在我們現

代社會中，尊敬變得非常重要，特別是在男人之間，它已經不再僅僅來自與悲痛

。這篇短文，他自敘他如何來哀悼他的前不久去世的兒子。以下是馬克紐蘭的自

敘，我相信。

我相信，為你悲痛是件好事。我想現在大多數人已經忘記了如何去悲痛。然而就

在去年，有了一個機會來喚醒我如何去悲痛。當妻子血壓不正常的時候，她已經

有了7個月的身孕。她的肝臟越來越虛弱，因此醫生不得不實行剖腹產來挽救她們

兩人的生命。我第一次見到我的兒子的時候，他躺在早產兒的保育箱里，護士小

姐在幫他清理身體。他望者我，像一隻海豚跳到海平面上新鮮地看著人類，然後

又跟隨他同伴再次沒入海裡，使自己感覺安穩。他是那么的小，和虛弱。兩個星

期過去了，我的妻子病情得到了控制，但是我的兒子的情況卻越來越糟糕。早產

兒的肺部就如蜘蛛網一樣輕薄易碎，稍微擠壓，它們就會變成了碎片。我多想把

他摟在懷裡，把我的肺給他，讓他呼吸。我們走過去，擁抱他，撫摸他的頭，最

後，大大小小的管子和金屬線僅僅都插在了他的一隻手指頭上。他的肺已經沒用

了，我們只好讓他走。

我們從來沒有聽過他的哭聲。第一次當父母的妻子和我，當他死後，抱著他，給

他洗澡，給他洗頭髮，給他穿衣服，然後將他火化。在我的腦海里，我看見了一

位天使撫摸者他，好似我的兒子是一塊金幣，然後將他滑落進了口袋里。

日復一日，當你閉上雙眼，讓痛苦從你的指尖流過，非常生硬和冰冷，直到悲哀

刻入你的心靈。這就是悲痛與你的交易，壓力驅使你的情緒來來回回。

首先，你感覺世界好像顛覆了一般，你好像已經被淹沒了。但到最後，悲痛會拯

救你，讓你堅強面對最難熬的時刻。

經過悲痛，我成為了更好的丈夫，父親，以及一個男人。我變得更加和善，更有

同理心，對生活也有了不同的追求。這改變了我們的婚姻，兒子的葬禮同時也燃

盡了我們之間所有的不純潔。

兒子的生命每分鐘等於我們來說，都是難得的禮物，最後，我們的兒子消逝在愛

他的臂彎里。

十個月后，妻子生了一個健康的女兒，我很高興，兒子的去世讓我此時更加的開心，

因為我知，現在我擁有了什麽。天使向我伸出了雙手。當第一次女兒轉過身來，望者

我的時候，我抱起了她，用我的一切來擁抱她。

抱歉 剛仔係看了 原始網站 有著作權之虞 故刪之
=> 我不做商業用途，應該沒關係吧....~~

翻譯者有著作權，但以原文的著作權為準，意思就是說，如果原文的著作權中的翻譯權有所保留的話，如果翻譯者在沒有被授權的時候自己出版就會有涉及侵權的意思。

我不知道，自己有沒有理解錯？現在大陸的互聯網是有著作權了~


謝謝火星大大的提醒