Tag: grief
Running on Christmas Day. No signal.
At 8 pm last night, I agreed with myself I wouldn’t post, wouldn’t share, wouldn’t clutter up Christmas Day with stuff on this blog.
But no, that wasn’t possible Now. So we’ll keep it short.
I hadn’t run in weeks, but the pull to get outside, was out-of-body. You need to get out. Today. Now.
30° F feeling like 26° F. Sun bright and beaming. It was high tide at the cove, a flock of Canadian geese, 25 or so, were floating at the base of the break wall, offering me their moment of silence.
He used to follow this blog, comment on certain posts. I could feel His finger reaching for the “Like” button towards the End when he was no longer up to offering comments.
Forgiveness is not a strong suit. Actually no suit I wear at all. I had to stop at mid-point on the run. Toxicity from the anger made another step impossible.
Anger burns for the Health Insurer, who silently collected his premium payments, and then provided notice that coverage wasn’t provided as promised because of an exclusion. And then to stick the knife deeper, terminated coverage retroactively for a month, causing a scramble by the Care providers demanding payment from Him, shuffling Him to a hospital, and that hospital shuffling him to another for lack of confirmation of Insurance Coverage, and this second one pressing for transfer to permanent skilled care. “We needed to provide him with a sedative. He’s really anxious, struggling to breathe.” And you wonder why he’s anxious? The cauldron boils over. Anger also burns, for those who took a vow with my Brother, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, only to let him fight alone in sickness. Continue reading “Running on Christmas Day. No signal.”
Sunday Morning
My son was almost 4 months old when he stopped breathing at daycare. It was his first day there, the first time I had left his side. Neither the doctors nor investigators could tell us why it happened…The question of my son’s death — the mystery of it, why he vanished — remains without answer. And so I ask the questions of life: What force grew this little child? How did those limbs form themselves from nothing inside of me? Why did I have the power to make him, but not to bring him back? Why are the things he saw on this planet so beautiful? Why did his eyes look at me the way they did? Where did love like this come from? I will never know who my child would have been, but I know his love. If there is a God, this is what he gave me.
~ Amber Scorah, Surviving the Death of My Son After the Death of My Faith (NY Times, May 31, 2019)
Notes: Photo by Ayla Maagdenberg titled “Grief“. Inspired by Sawsan: “Love is not a fin or a tail or an extra unnecessary tooth. It’ll be the last thing to pass through the evolutionary blades.”
Lightly Child, Lightly.
Don’t turn your head.
Keep looking at the bandaged place.
That’s where the light enters you.
And don’t believe for a moment that you’re healing yourself.
– Rumi, in It’s Not All in Your Head by Tony Giordano
Notes:
- Photo via Mennyfox55. Quote: Thank you Beth @ Alive on All Channels
- Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”
Flying North AA4650. With RTP.
It’s one of those moments in life when you remember exactly where you were, what you were doing, and how you felt.
In the old pre-smartphone days, it was the 3 am phone call, with the ring shattering the silence. You fumble in darkness trying to find the handset praying…please, please, please, let it be a wrong number, and not something worse.
Today, it’s all about texting. And it was a text.
Yesterday morning. 11:00 a.m. Nashville, TN. The first day of a 4-day conference in a large ballroom at the J.W. Marriott. The lights in the room were dimmed, the spots beamed down on the speaker on stage.
My iPhone screen lights up, flashing an iMessage notification.
“Please call me. Now. Important.” Continue reading “Flying North AA4650. With RTP.”