Bro, if you’re reading this post from above, hit “Like” please.

~ Live & Learn

90 thoughts on “Bro, if you’re reading this post from above, hit “Like” please.”

  3. That’s one of the hardest parts of the missing…when I find myself missing my mother, I go to the grocery store and wander up and down each aisle. She and I both enjoyed doing this whenever I visited her. I find myself “chatting” with her as we wander. I’m going to guess you and Lorne will find your own places and have your own chats. Making peace with the lopsided conversation takes time which I hope you give yourself.

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    1. Smiling. Thank you for sharing this Mary Ann. Your thoughts remind me of:

      This talk of making peace with it. Of feeling it and then finding a way through. Of closure. It’s all nonsense. Here is what no one told me about grief: you inhabit it like a skin. Everywhere you go, you wear grief under your clothes. Everything you see, you see through it, like a film. It is not a hidden hair shirt of suffering. It is only you, the thing you are, the cells that cling to each other in your shape, the muscles that are doing your work in the world. And like your other skin, your other eyes, your other muscles, it too will change in time. It will change so slowly you won’t even see it happening. No matter how you scrutinize it, no matter how you poke at it with a worried finger, you will not see it changing. Time claims you: your belly softens, your hair grays, the skin on the top of your hand goes loose as a grandmother’s, and the skin of your grief, too, will loosen, soften, forgive your sharp edges, drape your hard bones. You are waking into a new shape. You are waking into an old self. What I mean is, time offers your old self a new shape. What I mean is, you are the old, ungrieving you, and you are also the new, ruined you. You are both, and you will always be both. There is nothing to fear. There is nothing at all to fear. Walk out into the springtime, and look: the birds welcome you with a chorus. The flowers turn their faces to your face. The last of last year’s leaves, still damp in the shadows, smell ripe and faintly of fall.

      ~ Margaret Renkl, from “After the Fall” in Late Migrations: A Natural History of Love and Loss (Milkweed Editions (July 9, 2019)

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  6. Love and blessings to all! We come together in our love through heart-wrenching grief…and also through genuine laughter, tenderness and reaching out to comfort.

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  9. Dear Dave; while we had my son with his partner here for a meal, I was thinking of you and yours who take the final leave of Lorne. This is what I wish for me too: A Celebration of Life and not one of ‘only’ sadness. I’m quite sure he ‘likes’ what you do for him and I’m convinced you are going to have many ‘discussions’ between brothers – I have experienced similar happenings many times. The most I have ‘spoken’ with my father after his death and once or twice my mum and I discussed the ‘How strange it is that we now speak more with each other than when he was still on this earth. It’s a strange but beautiful thing when this happens and it brings you possibly even closer than you were anyway.
    I’m sending much love, consoling thoughts and payers, to you, but especially also to Lorne’s family and children, to your family and all of his friends and companions over the time of his illness. Hugs are winging to you too! Love

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    1. Wonderful thoughts Kiki (as usual), you know just what to say.

      Our Mimi shared this with me this morning “I don’t think we are ever the same after losing someone we love deeply, one who shares parts of us that few would know or remember. Grief enters our emotional lexicon in a way that nothing else does, and it morphs our soul into something deeper, more serious, more sensitive and more aware” and this stuck with me as well.

      Thank you for your friendship Kiki.

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    1. Thank you Anneli. This quote but Hunter Thompson was shared yesterday. He certainly lived this life.

      “Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!”

      ― Hunter S. Thompson, The Proud Highway: Saga of a Desperate Southern Gentleman, 1955-1967

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  19. Praying and grieving together with your family, as it is our family as well! Yesterday we got together at Olga’s and shared memories of Lorne with our grandsons, here from their home in Finland. Wish we could all be together in Scottsdale, but we are there in spirit and love. Blessings, love and hugs to all of you. Lorne, who blessed us with his presence was a shining light for all of us.

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  21. Dear David, You don’t know me but I follow your blog and my life is enriched by it. I would like to offer you my heartfelt condolences. May your brother Lorne’s soul rest in peace. Thinking of you.

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  23. What a wonderful picture of Lorne. See all the likes you’ve received from us? They came through him.
    Sending you likes and love and hugs on this day that you celebrate Lorne’s too-short life. Eventually, you will only think of the good times you shared and smile.

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  28. Lorne is definitely with you. 💕✨

    “If I be the First of us to Die.”

    If I be the first of us to die,
    Let grief not blacken long your sky.
    Be bold yet modest in your grieving.
    There is a change but not a leaving.
    For just as death is part of life,
    The dead live on forever in the living.
    And all the gathered riches of our journey,
    The moments shared, the mysteries explored,
    The steady layering of intimacy stored,
    The things that made us laugh or weep or sing,
    The joy of sunlit snow or first unfurling of the spring,
    The wordless language of look and touch,
    The knowing,
    Each giving and each taking,
    These are not flowers that fade,
    Nor trees that fall and crumble,
    Nor are the stone,
    For even stone cannot the wind and rain withstand
    And mighty mountain peaks in time reduce to sand.
    What we were, we are.
    What we had, we have.
    A conjoined past imperishably present.
    So when you walk the wood where once we walked together
    And scan in vain the dappled bank beside you for my shadow,
    Or pause where we always did upon the hill to gaze across the land,
    And spotting something, reach by habit for my hand,
    And finding none, feel sorrow start to steal upon you,
    Be still.
    Close your eyes.
    Breathe.
    Listen for my footfall in your heart.
    I am not gone but merely walk within you.

    Author: Nicholas Evans 🙏🏻🌈

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  30. I wish you all the signs, David! And the clarity to see them.
    I cannot even begin to imagine what all of you are going through now. Holding you all in my heart 🙏🏻

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  31. “Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.
    It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”
    That is from Mary Oliver’s book Thirst. Not that any words at all will help during these days filled with sorrow…but I pray that with time, you will be okay. Thinking of you and your family, David. I am so sorry.

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    2. Oh, how I love these words: Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness.
      It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.
      This would have been perfect for my situation too at one time….

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  42. I just found out that Lorne passed away. It actually hurt to hear he passed away. He was so good to me and my family. I know there’s nothing I can say to comfort anyone because a loss is a loss. I wish there was more I could do or say. All I know is my belief is that I will see him again. I recently lost my mother on March 30th from covid-19 in New York. I’m not sure what caused his death I just know that too many people died especially the good ones. If there’s anything I could ever do for you and your family please do not hesitate to get in touch with me.

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    1. Awwww Lakshmi. Thank you so much for your note. And I’m so sorry you lost your Mother. And so agree with you, we have lost so many good ones. Thank you for reaching out.

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