Saturday, September 13, 2008

Melancholy much?

Grief is like waves, no? Ebb and flow, here and gone. Sometimes your feet get knocked out from under you... and you have to start over, sopping wet, trembling and weak. Staring up at the moon and wondering what we are doing here anyway, and why it is so damn beautiful even as your heart is bleeding all over the damn place.

Wish You Were Here


Fragile  - Sting

If blood will flow when flesh and steel are one
Drying in the colour of the evening sun
Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away
But something in our mind will always stay
Perhaps this final act was meant
To clinch a lifetime's argument
That nothing comes from violence and nothing ever could
For all those born beneath an angry star
Lest we forget how fragile we are

On and on the rain will fall
Like tears from a star - like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are how fragile we are
How fragile we are how fragile we are


Don't worry. I will feel better tomorrow. Just had to get that out I guess. Oh okay, one more for the fun of being in a funk...

Where'd You Go


Katherine said...

A dear dear old friend, one who died nine years ago and whom I ache for as I type, said this to me. She said that sometimes we just need to sit and let our uterous weep. That speaks to mothers. But it makes me think of you now. Just let yourself weep here. No one is judging you, hurrying you, needing you to be cheerful. You have been very much on my mind. I haven't wanted to comment, for understanding the personal nature of this kind of pain. I've just been bearing witness for you. Paul Simon said "losing love is like a window in your heart. everyone sees you are blown apart. everyone feels the wind blow." I can feel a tiny breeze off of you, even from this great distance. I have learned that grief arrives, for me, in identifiable stages. I know the wind blowing stage. It helps, this familiarity. But it does not hurt less. You have lost true love. There is no way through but through. And you will get through. And your sadness is probably not damaging the children.

Rage. Grief. Desperation. Unmoored Groundlessness.

I'm so sorry, Love. So Sorry. I wish I had more, to make it better. But it will get better. It will shift and hurt less.

Mommylion said...

"I stand near the lake and think on you
As water rages white and pure and fierce
As angels; and I, human, so full of tears
Try to let the wind blow through me
But it is crazy how solid I am"

That is from a poem I wrote about the death of my sister's best friend when we were in college. It was February and the lake was vicious. I went out to the end of a small pier among the ice and let a storm blow over me. Just feeding off the rage of it. So when you say the 'wind blowing stage'. Oh my god. That is exactly it. That is where I am now, on and off.

But now that I am not a rage filled young adult that is facing the loss. Now that I have a family and I am not a wandering sort of lost youngling and it is beautiful early fall - not mad winter. Our grief feels ill fitting at times. Everything is normal, but it's not.

The kids are doing well and we try to shield them from the extent of our sadness. I think that is why I invade the happy place that is my blog sometime. My sounding board. Thanks K. Your words are balm.