Marti: “I have always held to the belief that spirit can fill the space but it also opens for sorrow, for love, for memory, for questions, for seeking, for answers that may take a long time to come and may never come.”
Excerpt of old post written in 2019: Lost Orgasms or Zero Faith
“Arriving home, I look out over the still misty ground to what remains of the now abandoned play structure. There, I can just make out the black, spray painted letters that spell out: ‘ZERO FAITH.’ Probably scrawled during one of the boy’s passages through middle school. Could be a skateboard brand. Or a song. Probably also a declaration. It makes me wonder: does misery pass through the body’s code, along with hair color and shoe size? Please don’t answer, I already know.”
We attended our first online support group for parents of children who killed themselves last night. It felt intimate and safe and allowed Ken and me to feel seen and heard in a powerful way. And of course, hearing about other people’s experience was nourishing and helpful, even when deeply sad.
Overheard: It takes a village to raise a child. It also takes a village to lose a child.
This photo occupies a shelf next to where I write. Yesterday, I noticed the sign. Remember the waking dream reference to Mt. Washington’s Lake of the Clouds? Also, found the photo below in Danny’s Instagram feed.
Gardens delight and gardens disappoint. Our dogwood tree out front is dead — thank you rabbits! Two of my Rose of Sharon trees out front — also dead, also thank you rabbits.
But two pots that I emptied over by the arbor vitae until I found the time to chop up the dirt, sprouted. With mums!
This morning is warm. At last! I placed the recently-potted pussy willow that Ginny gave me outdoors. Weeded. Potted up a few annuals. Twist-tied my new clematis to a lattice on the south side of the house.
We had scones from Maine for breakfast. Thank you Lisa! Ginger lemon. So, so tasty.
Today’s thank you notes are headed to Idaho, California, Washington, Florida, and Vermont. Such a wide net of care!
These were the first notes I’ve been able to write in over a week. It’s hard.
Meanwhile I’m about to call the Epstein Quilt finished. I added a Deb Lacativa moon last night and another organza moon and another shark head and lots more quilting. I could stitch this thing all summer, I think, and still find areas to run my needle. But soon, enough will be enough.
FOOD
Blistered string beans, mango salsa, and spiced salmon. Doesn’t get much better than this, especially when you don’t have to cook it!
(Finn’s wondering if I want that second slice of French bread?)
That was Thursday. Last night a neighbor dropped off lasagne and the most delicious chop salad ever. Oh, and a crunchy walnut-covered pastry filled with chocolate ganache. Let me say it was so rich and tasty that I’m glad we split it three ways.
Tonight I’m gonna try one of Jamie Oliver’s quick recipes. These tubers will get chopped on a cutting board drizzled with olive oil along with feta cheese and cilantro. Thirteen minutes in the microwave was his “cheat.” Also, I might mix in some couscous from a meal dropped off on Wednesday.
KNOWING
Here are two things I’ve recently learned about grief. One I’m glad to know, the other, not so much.
I’m glad to know that loss can and often does cause intense heaviness in the chest. My father died of a heart attack at the age of 54 and I know two people who have had “broken heart” heart attacks. Knowing the commonality of this physical symptom eases my mind.
What I’m less psyched to learn is that many folks observe that Year Two of grieving is much harder than Year One.
To that I say, great. Just great.
Yes, yes, the kind neighbors will move on, the meals will stop, but more what seems to get people is how the aching permanence of the loved one’s absence becomes more real.
I’m not seeking out depressing notions or dwelling on them (well, maybe a little), but things cross my screen and I notice them and sometimes I find myself telling you about them.
MEDIUMS
Just read another book about a local medium. For a person who can barely get through six paragraphs of a Booker Prize-winning novel, it’s very noticeable that I devoured this book in three sittings.
It wasn’t particularly well written but it didn’t matter. The point about the permeability between life and death was made over and over and that’s something I need to believe right now.