Dear Hubbies,
I just found out that a longtime friend, someone I grew up with, died of choking of all things - on food in a restaurant. She slipped into a coma March 22 and died March 27 w/out waking up. She was 56 and leaves a 24 year old daughter.
"someone I grew up with": yes I'm that old, older even. And you will be too, if you're lucky or smart or both.
This after another difficult conversation with my own almost-30-year-old daughter. She's smart and beautiful, but is having a difficult time becoming a reasonable adult. I won't go into it here - at least not yet. Let me just say that I wish the cognitive behaviour therapy was working.
There is much to be grateful for and much to be torn up about.
Chew carefully, hubski.
In times of sorrow, I turn to poetry. I wish I could offer you more, but this is what I have.
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die. -- Mary Elizabeth Frye
I wish that therapy worked. I wish my common response "life is a swindle" was reassuring because that is what I want to be. Ideas that are too powerful become cliches -I am sorry for your loss- -my condolences- They mean I mourn with you and I do. luckily we evolved to see things as beautiful.
thx ref - I went to the "wake" yesterday run by her two brothers. My friend, Karen, was a poet and I read one of her poems at the wake. In memory of Karen, I'll post it here:
Blood Red Nails I saw you look
At my blood red nails
And how they echo
My lips I know it is but a
Glance as we sit
Me knowing full well
This will go nowhere The ambered tones
Of your voice tunnel
Into me through me
Refracting musical time I hold your eyes
But they’re flickering low
I try my hardest
Not to look any longer The red tip of my cigarette
Slips into my espresso
I wish it could soothe the
Burning rush that I feel I walk out and away
My tears slice across
Windy night skies
Gelid stars on my cheeks Back down the halls
In my room they thaw and
Spill into the paint on my page
I tear the page into pieces But I saw you look
At my blood red nails
And how they echoed
My lips
I badged Karen's poem in hopes that it will give it more visibility. I take comfort in the fact that the things we create usually out last us and continue to impact people. As you know, we are moving in to a new home. So far, we've only moved a few things in to it, one of which is a chair that I inherited from my friend Ralph who was also a poet. Yesterday, I sat alone in that chair and thought about Ralph. He once gave me the advice to create, create, create -particularly any sort of art. He came to the act of creating art late in life and wished he hadn't waited so long. I took comfort in Ralph's poetry when he died, it's nice when our loved ones leave us behind these treasures. I'm sorry for your loss Lil and I'm glad you shared Karen's poem, I enjoyed reading it. I'm curious what you make of the poem. Unrequited love/lust? I hope your days are getting better and I wish you the best with your daughter.
You're right. The poem is full of longing, passion and rejection, but I wanted to show two other things in the poem when I read it at the wake. 1) the passionate heart symbolized by the blood red nails
2) the way Karen was multi-talented in both painting and words and the way she turned the tears into art. Yes, she tore the page into pieces -- but the poem, another page, survived. Thank you for your thoughts and memories and comments about Ralph.
Thanks so much flags. Some comments were deleted along with other stuff as blackbootz and I worked some stuff out. I appreciate your thoughts. xo
Oh gosh. Life happens regardless of the narrative structure we try to impose on it. That's a terribly shitty ordeal, I'm sorry lil!
This is the most adorable thing I've seen in a long time! Is this your pig? Do you still have a pig? I need to come visit you so I can play with piggies.
Not my pig unfortunately. I actually had to sell ol' Squeak a few years back. He got too big for his enclosure and was wandering up the mountain I lived on more and more and one day he slid down the face of the mountain and got stuck in a crack. He was ok, after I got some buddies to help me lift him out (he weighed about 250 lbs. at that point), but what with the rainy season (and the intense storms that can happen) it was only a matter of time before he fell and really hurt himself. The thing is, there's no vet that would have been able to patch him up where I was living, so I did the hard thing and sold him, which sadly means that he was slaughtered and eaten. :( It sounds cruel, but there were no real options and I hope you'll believe me when I say I thought long and hard about how it could be avoided, but that's the way it had to go. I would like to get another pig when I live in a place where I won't have to make those kinds of choices: they can be the most companionable animals and have so much personality. I'd love it if I could have a pig and a dog that got along really well, like these two. Squeak made my old dog (who is still alive and lives with my friend) his bitch (not sexually) and would always steal the dog's food and try to eat his tail.
I really try not to judge choices people make about situations I know nothing about. I know you are a good person and therefore wouldn't make a choice like that without thought. Hahahahahah..that sounds adorable. Similarly in this video, it looks like both the dog and the pig are trying to eat each others faces!It sounds cruel, but there were no real options and I hope you'll believe me when I say I thought long and hard about how it could be avoided, but that's the way it had to go.
try to eat his tail.
Consider it edited! I am an aspiring grammar nerd. To answer your question, I am a puppy.
Earlier today I was feeling some sort of way. I was very energetic for a lot of reasons and it manifested itself somewhat chaotically. I'm truly crestfallen to find my attempts to improve your mood came off awkwardly and to find a suggestion on how to listen properly as thanks. I would try to paraphrase how you might be feeling, offer it tentatively for your approval in an effort to make you feel even a little bit understood, and stand back to let you grieve, but because you already know what I'm trying to do it would feel forced. Kind of fake. And I hate fake. Even though I truly am sorry for your loss. And pardon me, I read grammar nazi at first but I see that you wrote nerd. I thought I was just using your words. Here, read this. I hope it helps.
Thanks for the edit and the other edit. Note: anyone coming across this page should know that some items have been edited and deleted, so it might not make too much sense anymore. Note, bbootz - the initial post was a little weird, but I do feel a lot better having had this conversation with you. I appreciate the other comments as well. Notice I deleted my stupid suggestion to read something. I also love the idea of sudden sofa humping. There's lots of interesting points in the link you sent, including this: There's no funeral - just a wake tomorrow. I'll be going and I'll be keeping the article you sent in mind. thxThere is no shortcut to mourning, the shortcut leads to madness. When you subvert the system and offer a mourner a shortcut, you are leading them to madness.