Having fun with the Canon XTI
Having fun with the Canon XTI
Grief is an incredible concept, when you think about it. This continuous process of mourning, where we literally have to take things step by step, doing our level best to survive the waves of emotion that hit, while also fiercely concentrating on simple movement so as not to get stuck, not to sink.
I have a very close friend who, I hope she’ll forgive me for talking about her, lost her daughter only a couple weeks before her twin boys were born. This happened years ago, we talk about it sometimes, and I am in awe at her strength, the sheer energy that it takes simply to get up in the morning, keep yourself moving, hoping that the momentum of one day will carry you into the next. We talk about how she really hasn’t had a chance to truly, truly grieve for her baby girl. How, as her kids get older, she has more time to herself, and it gets harder. I told her the other night that maybe it’s time for her to mourn, to actively catch up to her own grief before it catches up to her.
I have absolutely no clue how she feels. My inability to sympathize is frustrating on so many levels, I want to give her hug, look at her face and say, “I know,” but I can’t. I saw a quote today that made me think of her:
“Death ends a life, not a relationship” - Robert Benchley.
It occurred to me that, even if she had not had her boys, after her daughter died, she was and always would be a mother. If I lost my brother, he would still be my brother. I would still be his sister. After my grandparents die, I will still be their granddaughter and after my parents die, I will still be their daughter. That specific relationship I have with them will not disappear.
I haven’t lost anyone close, yet, but I know that the time will come when it’s my turn to take part in that particular piece of life’s cycle. It took a few sessions with my therapist a long time ago to realize that the death of a loved one isn’t the only thing that you grieve for. The concept that I need to grieve for certain parts of my life, and the things that have resulted, was an incredibly hard one to grasp. But boy, when I got it, you could seriously see the light bulb appear over my head. It didn’t take long for the rest of the emotion to crest soon after and I still struggle with it. Tonight is particularly hard.
Robert Benchley’s quote took me from the grief we feel in the death of a loved one, to the many other things in my life that I grieve for, and whether my relationship to those moments has remained the same and do I want it to stay that way. I look at who I am now and wonder, am I too cautious, too bruised, too frigid? How do you find that line between forgiveness and the lesson you learned? How do you learn enough to stop making the same choices and yet release what has happened so as not to become a wall, not turn to stone? How do you find your way back to who you truly are? And is it too late?
I mourn for so many things. The opportunities I could have had, moments when life truly just wasn’t fair, times when I have just been so cleanly and deliberately hurt. I grieve for my son, I know I can’t be the mother he deserves, that he’ll go through his own rough patches, that he will also learn what it means to hurt. I think we’ve all been in that boat, all had our share of hard knocks, I know in many ways I have no clue what horrible things people go through on a daily basis. I also know I don’t want to be stagnant, locked away and unreachable, and I don’t know how else to get there aside from pure grief.
I don’t mean to compare my sadness at certain events with how I’ll feel when I finally lose someone I love. I think, maybe, that the level of grief anyone experiences is relative to the event. I am truly scared of the idea that I’ll know this feeling on a more massive scale one day. What I do mean to say is that regardless of the magnitude, grief is still there, and I don’t think I can really know who I am without moving through this process.
I discovered something today. When it rains, there are puddles. Puddles, in fact, make you hydroplane. Especially when you’re maybe going a little faster than you should be (oops). When hydroplaning, it’s a really bad idea to have your sunroof open and your windows down. Why, you ask? I can answer that from experience. Because you get wet.
This is great…. Vampire Weekend collaboration with Ra Ra Riot…
I originally wanted to post this for Mother’s Day, and didn’t. For now, this is simply a quiet wish to my niece, Talia, to have a wonderful first birthday.
There are so many songs I hold close to my heart, I knew this was one of them the first time I heard it. It makes me remember my own childhood, think of my mom watching my brother, sister and I as we grew up. I also remember the day I became a mother, how easily the last seven years have slipped by, I look at my son and I am so proud.
And I remember the day my brother became a father, the day my sister had Talia. I remember the phone call I got from my mom when we found out Talia’s heart wasn’t working, that we didn’t know if she would live through the loss of circulation and organ failure. I remember being in Texas while my sister and mom went through this in New Jersey. I remember wishing I could be there, feeling so apart, and hearing this song.
The first verse will always make me think of Talia, because she is close to God, and I remember praying for her to please please please just live, I remember holding onto the idea that if we all just prayed hard enough, she would make it. She did make it. Now she’s one, and I’m so glad I get to watch her grow.
Happy Birthday, little one.
This is a link to the New York Times blog, Lens, and today’s posting about the ‘Tank Man’ of Tiananmen Square. A visually stunning example of courage, with stories from each journalist as to how they came to be at the Beijing Hotel, and how they managed to smuggle the film out once the photos were taken. This is worth the read.
Regina Spector’s latest, and it’s grown on me. I like songs that make me think….
Another one I found. There really is nothing better than taking a wild stab at downloading a song from iTunes that I’m not sure about, and then ending up loving it.
