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

[brinian.livejournal.com]

I only had Lady three and half years and I still occasionally burst into tears when someone mentions her. Don't be too hard on yourself. You've lost a very dear family member. If the other person doesn't understand, it's because their life hasn't been enriched by the kind of relationship you've had with your boys.

Congrats on the Paris picture! That's just fabulous :-)

[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

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

I completely agree about a timetable for grief. Let love just be what it is, and grief too.

It's too bad, in a way, that the good news about your photo had to come at a time when you couldn't enjoy it the way you might otherwise--but that's still a wonderful accomplishment.

I'm so sorry about how you must be missing Cholmondeley--nothing can replace a friend, human or otherwise.

[lidocafe.livejournal.com]

I love the idea that some stranger will pick up a guide book and see a picture and say let's go there and will in that way be connected to you, unknown and far away, while walking among the mysterious lost. There's something meaningful there, something that connects up with Cholmondeley and that he came to you and that he had to go and that somewhere out there are other creatures, human and otherwise, that you will know, and others you won't and oh, I am like Prufrock: it is impossible to say just what I mean! It's something about the intersection of intention, desire, and chance.

On the subject of pets, as you know it's now been a year and a half since we had to let Rosa go, and I still wish I could have her back and have trouble settling for less. We've gotten to the point, though, where we can laugh when remembering the way she used to tear about the house, running like mad to nowhere in particular.

And thank you for your thought. (Also gritting my teeth for dept. meeting.)

[superfoo.livejournal.com]

Congratulations on your photos!


Also - I agree with the grief having it's own timetable, and of course the sentiments about the grief of loosing a family member. The three dogs I have had to have put down still upset me deeply if I think about it.

I left a comment in lidocafe's journal: Marri & I were talking today and want to go out for a movie/drinks with you guys. It sounds like you could both use some relax-and-not-think-about-sadness times. Even just for a few hours.

[gillo]

He was an important part of your life and of your family. The grief will come and go, and eventually be tucked away in a place you don't look at all the time, but the loss will still be there.

Congratulations on the photo - you have a great deal of talent.