Surfacing

[intertext]

I'm beginning to feel a little more normal. At least, I can tell people about Cholmondeley without bursting into tears. There's still a bit gaping hole where he used to be, though.

His photo made Explore on Flickr. That's a nice thing.

This week, I managed to function in classes. Tuesday, I felt a bit of strain, but today things went well. I felt the group was on My Side, which is always nice. Online courses seem to be going gangbusters, so that's good as well.

I wish I didn't have to go to a dept meeting tomorrow. I think it might be not fun, but I will try very hard to float above it, and not get involved in the politics of it and escape unscathed. That would be the desirable outcome, anyway - to be unscathed.

Oh, and my Paris photo was chosen for the guidebook. I'd quite given up, then I got an email from them a day or two ago. So, yay.

And, lidocafe - you know I'm thinking about you and hoping that all will be well for you soon.

Comments

[elianarus.livejournal.com]

My cat was hit by a car almost 12 years ago (she was an indoor cat who forced open a screen to have a grand adventure), and though the grief is more muted, it is always present. When I'm inclined to tell myself that I'm being unreasonable about it, my instincts flare up - underneath my social conditioning about appropriate grieving timetables, etc lies a passionate belief that grief is not a bad thing. We grieve because there is this great big gaping hole in our lives and our hearts, and it is there because the lost one, of whatever species, was special, was dearly loved. And somehow it feels *right* that we should feel the absence so strongly.

(to reassure anyone who might get the wrong impression from the above: I lead a normal life with a husband and six children and lots of friends and interests - I don't sit around crying (though I did for the first few weeks after she died), there is just a sore spot in my heart, a feeling that someone is missing from my life. It is similar to the way I've felt my grandmother's absence since she died. For Morgana, when me moved I thought about how she'd have liked this house, when I'm lying in bed I still miss feeling her curl up against my legs, and so on. For Grammy, I hear her voice (no not her actual voice, just a memory), I think of the nachas she'd get from various stages of my kids' lives, of how sad she'd be that I'm not taking as many photographs as I used to, etc)

What a long, self-centered way to say that I'm thinking of you and... I guess I also wanted to say that big gaping hole is a measure of his importance in your life, of how very much you loved him... and every grief has its own timetable, you seem to be letting it be what it is, and I hope you're able to keep on doing so.

Take care of yourself,

Eliana

[intertext.livejournal.com]

Thank you - those are some lovely thoughts. And I know exactly what you mean about your cat. Every loss is just that - a loss - and I don't think we ever completely recover, we just get used to it.

every grief has its own timetable

Yes.