You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘loss’ tag.

Sometimes the body is simply unable to contain the splendor of the soul. Never forget — depression lies.

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Topsail Beach, North Carolina.

Quote of the day: “But poetry, romance, love, beauty? These are what we stay alive for!” — N.H. Kleinbaum

Daily gratitudes:
Being alive
Helping strangers
The full moon
Laughter
That Kelsea and I think so much alike

 

Rest well, Robin Williams. You made me laugh in the darkest times, and for that I thank you. I wish you could have seen that depression lies.

How selfish mourning is.

It neither benefits nor honors the dead.

It will be nine years this year since I lost my father, and eight since I lost my mother. To all outward appearances, I am reconciled to that loss, which is all one can ever be. You never get over it, you just readjust.

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Mother

Except in dreams.

In dreams, such as last night’s, they live. And they die all over again.

Those are the worst dreams, where you go home, you see them, they give you food and advice, and you talk about when you can get time off work to see them again, the conscious self crossing swords with the unconscious self to accept and deny reality, and then, slowly in the dream, there comes the dawning that they are both dead.

It as if they have died all over again.  And in the dream, you have that same sense of endless emptiness that you experienced only then, in reality, except without the comforts of reality to sustain you. That feeling creeps into your waking consciousness and you awake, eyes closed, wondering where in the world you are, and why this weight is filling your closed eyes with tears and if the wind outside that is brushing the chimes is warm or cold.

You remember that your childhood house, now in dreams, strangely borrowed and restored to your memory of it, is now remodeled. The green shag carpet and the books are gone from the living room, the knotty pine cabinets and red cracked ice table are gone from the kitchen. The new owners have the put the refrigerator in a place that does not make sense.

You look out your bedroom window now, on a January day, and see that the snow has melted some, and know that there are daffodils eking their way out of the old ground somewhere, and remember the buttery smell of thousands of daffodils from your childhood.

You do not know what to do with yourself.

So you write about it, before you get up to feed the cat and make coffee. And you wonder about the weight of the human  heart.

The most severe period of mourning – the anniversary of my Mother’s death – is drawing to a close with the darkening of the day. It’s hard to believe that it’s been seven years. I still miss her every single day. Mr. Man is tucked up under and on the blankets next to me on the Red Couch. The Broncos are playing tonight. It was warm enough to go without my coat at lunch with MKL today. My bowl of green chile at Corazon was particularly hot. MKL gifted me with not only lunch, but a hydrangea bloom, and a string of Holstein lights. Sweet MKL. I found my Santa Hat. We have a party to go to tomorrow night, and are spending the night at the spooky Stanley Hotel. I discovered that I want to go skydiving – who knew? All in all, a good day to emerge from the cloak of sorrow.

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Pembrokeshire, Wales.

Quote of the day: “Someday you’re gonna look back on this moment of your life as such a sweet time of grieving.  You’ll see that you were in mourning and your heart was broken, but your life was changing…” — Elizabeth Gilbert

Daily gratitudes:
Union Station all lit up
Tree shadows
Sparkles
My “garden” at work
Love

I am swimming today, beneath my skin, in a deep green pool of grief. On the surface, it doesn’t show, but I am fighting to keep my head above water. And I am getting tired of fighting.

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Little Exuma, Bahamas.

Quote of the day: “You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.” — Annie Lamott

Daily gratitudes:
Research
When dreams and reality mingle
Entertaining socks
Books
Kisses
Baths

On some inky black nights, the shadows of loss steal around my soul and make me feel as if there is nothing in this world but sorrow.

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Topsail Beach, North Carolina.

Quote of the day: “I guess by now I should know enough about loss to realize that you never really stop missing someone-you just learn to live around the huge gaping hole of their absence.” — Alyson Noel

Daily gratitudes:
MKL
That it was a touch warmer today
Mr. Man
Blankets
My pair of life-sized plastic geese (don’t tell them they’re plastic – they don’t know)

On top of my own scare today, my heart is aching for the families of Moore, Oklahoma who lost homes, loved ones, and children. This image of the children’s garde at the lovely Oklahoma City Memorial seemed fitting today. Wishing you all as much peace as you can find tonight.

Oklahoma City Memorial

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.

Quote of the day: “What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.” — Suzanee Collins

Daily gratitudes:
Kelsea
MKL
People who stand by me
Prayers
Clouds

 

On Regrets

I once gave you a two-headed coin
to protect you from fates that hurt you.

Now, you choose to hurt me with your words,
again
And I am thrown into the River Styx,
again.

I do not want to be here,
again,
trying to breathe.

I hope the ferryman
will accept that coin as payment.

Please ask him to take care
not hit me with his oars
as you pass by
for I have been hurt
enough.

In A World of Shadows and Reflections

The man exists only
on the other side of the revolving door –
except revolving doors
by definition
have no sides.

Twin doves coo
in a white birch tree, barren of leaves –
but in a twist of head and fate,
I tread on ravens,
stark in dead limbs.

Whispers caress the shell curl
of a sleeping ear –
as an explosion of imaginary sound
awakens the dreamer,
disturbed by the dream.

A constant and complacent companion
conspicuous in her absence –
paints black pictures on sunstruck walls,
but lives a secret life
between death and darkness.

I’m still psychically reeling from the Marathon bombing yesterday, so it was good to be able to work from home today, and watch the snow outside. My migraine passed in the night, but the frozen okra that I used as an icepack will never be the same. I guess many things will never be quite the same after yesterday. On a lighter note, I discovered today that if you put a plastic bottle of root beer in the freezer and forget about it, and then remember it, and open it, it produces evil, sickly sweet, bubbly, tube-y things that look and taste and sound as if they come from a cafeteria in hell. Okay, maybe that wasn’t on a lighter note…

Today’s rose is in remembrance of all those lost in body and spirit yesterday.

A Rose for Remembrance

Denver, Colorado.

Quote of the Day: “The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.” — J.R.R. Tolkien (and with my thanks to Elsa.)

Daily gratitudes:
Big fat round robins
The bald eagle that flew over me as I was shovelling the walk
Warm blankets
Grey light on white snow
My red sweater

Three Yellow Balloons (For Boston)

Three yellow balloons drifted away.
This city that took much of my naiveté
Lost some of its own innocence today.

My old city shines and celebrates.
This day is a vacation day, a play day.
Everyone is your new friend,
The chill of a New England winter
finally shaken off our shoulders.

Music plays at the bandstand,
And the Charles sparkles with
Little jewels from the sun.

It is Race Day.

Runners start far away, but still
the streets are lined with people,
cheering on strangers.

We set up chairs on the roof of a brownstone,
Bask in the almost-forgotten sunshine.
Skip class. Skip work. Skip under the blue sky.

Runners start arriving
At the foot of Heartbreak Hill.
We yell and shout and clap and encourage
and find our favorites to root for.

The runners struggle on with an end in sight,
A goal
Worked for and earned with sweat and time and pain
and pride.

And then

Everything changes
In an instant
In a blast
In screams
In silence
In leftover puddles of blood.

I see
three yellow balloons
drift into the air
above it all.

Just floating.
Released by the hand of a person whose life will never be the same.

Goodbye, balloons.

Goodbye.

February 2020
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