« Rest In Peace | Main | The Big Dawg, gone. »
November 18, 2006
care of the dead
There is so much to say, so much to sort, when you have known someone, as well as their own family knew them. Your perspective shifts every day, every time you come through a bout of sadness and crying you feel washed a little, polished a little cleaner, this is a great gift since it is because we love that we grieve. There's an ocean of sadness, which sweeps you up in a great tsunami, a thousand smaller waves following. The best thing I've found to do, when these waves come, is let go, and let them take you where they will. Eventually you will be set free, gently.
I've been seeking spiritual guidance where I can find it, my senses tingle and I feel I have been stripped to raw nerves at times, and at others am completely and utterly numb.
Time, that ever present and inscrutable accordion that it is, breathes then stands still then breathes again and I am moving through it, being pulled by its currents, running in each direction.
A small poem I found early on in a book of Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies- Some Thoughts on Faith ~ which wasn't what I was looking for in the book but made me think of John anyway.
Late Fragment
And did you get what
you wanted from this life even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.
-Raymond Carver
John never knew just how beloved he was on this plane.
What I do know is that he sought a connection with god in his work and in his own unique way.
These are all very incomplete thoughts but I want to remember them.
Today I was searching for a picture I took of him when we first met.
I didn't find the picture, but I found a postcard he made and sent to me, with a poem on it~
when I wake
she brings me cherries and strawberries
and holds me softly, feeding me.
later in the rain,
fog rising from the streets,
still being fed,
still being held softly.
I want to thank everyone who has commented, and offered kind words and condolences, in particular, also, those who came over from David's blog to offer comfort to someone they didn't know. It means so much to me. Thank you.
Posted by at November 18, 2006 08:40 AM
Comments
I have a letter somewhere upstairs that he mailed to me after we moved to Lubbock. I think it has a cigarette duct taped to it. I should go find it.
Posted by: Molly at November 18, 2006 05:07 PM
One of the things I've realized dealing with death--most recently of my grandfather--is that grief is good. It is good to grieve. You must and you should.
I was reading this post, because I was afraid of grief, even second hand. The notice that a new post was up sat in my inbox and I neither deleted it nor followed the link.
The letter John sent was great. I hope we still have it.
Posted by: rob loftis at November 22, 2006 09:14 AM