I really am going to post soon...really. But as things are, I simply haven't had time. We have been cleaning and redecorating, not because of, but in anticipation of, my friend Ché's visit next week. I'm so excited! Many of you know Ché, but for those who don't, the short story is she and I met online just about a year ago and quickly became friends. Last November, she roomed with Pam and I at the Off the Map conference in Seattle. She and I spent quite a bit of time together; I love Pam dearly, but there is something comfortable about having another introvert to spend time with at a conference like that. So we have been talking ever since about her coming down for a visit...and now it's finally here. She will be with us Monday through Saturday, and for that I will likely be offline more than not during the time she is here.
In other news, we attended a very difficult memorial service today. I spoke briefly of the situation a few days ago, and it has been challenging for me. In some ways, when you're not close to a family, but once were very close, it feels strange to grieve. The mass was beautiful; I can't remember how long it's been since I've been to mass. There is something soothing about it, the ritual, the knowing.
In this situation, the man who died was 29 years old (it seems funny to call him "man" because to me he will always be about 4 years old...) and and died as a result of a long battle with a particular addiction. It is unfortunate that he left his friends and family in this way, because now they are left wondering what more they could have done to support him, though every possible avenue was taken to help him; in the end he could only win this battle in death.
The priest is new to the parish; he has only been there a few days, so no one was really sure what to expect. I liked him a great deal and he said some particularly interesting things. He spoke of how we are not our addictions, our bodies have an addiction, but our soul does not. He spoke of the impermanence of the body how our souls are "crammed full" of God, and God is not addicted. I cannot do it justice in retrospect, but at the time, his words were powerful and thought provoking.
I do not cry at funerals. Or shall I say, I have yet to; I'm sure there will be a time that I will. However, I do cry after funerals, when I am home, alone. Today I broke down, feeling a sense of a now-broken family, one so similar to mine, one once so close to mine. Flooded with memories of my childhood, of the place this family held in our lives. It is a place that while it can fade with time, it never dies.
One more. My Grandfather's brother, my great uncle, died on Wednesday. Four deaths in three months; two old, two young. So today I wondered "When will it end? Please, could no one else die now for awhile?" Because I feel so full of grief; grief in varying ways, but grief still the same. I've had enough for awhile.
Thank you all for your support and love. I have felt it and I appreciate it. Please don't feel obligated to offer condolences yet again...I know you are there and are praying, and that is enough. When you do pray, please pray for the family, they have a long and difficult road ahead.
In other news, we attended a very difficult memorial service today. I spoke briefly of the situation a few days ago, and it has been challenging for me. In some ways, when you're not close to a family, but once were very close, it feels strange to grieve. The mass was beautiful; I can't remember how long it's been since I've been to mass. There is something soothing about it, the ritual, the knowing.
In this situation, the man who died was 29 years old (it seems funny to call him "man" because to me he will always be about 4 years old...) and and died as a result of a long battle with a particular addiction. It is unfortunate that he left his friends and family in this way, because now they are left wondering what more they could have done to support him, though every possible avenue was taken to help him; in the end he could only win this battle in death.
The priest is new to the parish; he has only been there a few days, so no one was really sure what to expect. I liked him a great deal and he said some particularly interesting things. He spoke of how we are not our addictions, our bodies have an addiction, but our soul does not. He spoke of the impermanence of the body how our souls are "crammed full" of God, and God is not addicted. I cannot do it justice in retrospect, but at the time, his words were powerful and thought provoking.
I do not cry at funerals. Or shall I say, I have yet to; I'm sure there will be a time that I will. However, I do cry after funerals, when I am home, alone. Today I broke down, feeling a sense of a now-broken family, one so similar to mine, one once so close to mine. Flooded with memories of my childhood, of the place this family held in our lives. It is a place that while it can fade with time, it never dies.
One more. My Grandfather's brother, my great uncle, died on Wednesday. Four deaths in three months; two old, two young. So today I wondered "When will it end? Please, could no one else die now for awhile?" Because I feel so full of grief; grief in varying ways, but grief still the same. I've had enough for awhile.
Thank you all for your support and love. I have felt it and I appreciate it. Please don't feel obligated to offer condolences yet again...I know you are there and are praying, and that is enough. When you do pray, please pray for the family, they have a long and difficult road ahead.
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