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Gender: Female
Member since: Fri Nov 26, 2004, 05:56 AM
Number of posts: 27,028

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it's very sad what happened to your friend, polly

it's always such a tragedy when we lose someone who touches our heart, who lightens our spirit, or who is part of our soul.

and i really mean that--i'm still grieving for my mom & it's been over four years (and my little dog & that's been over 9 months).

sometimes we are resilient and recover (in varying degrees) from our losses sooner rather than later. sometimes losing someone in our life takes us down a longer road. which ever path you travel, i hope your journey is filled with love and peace.

your friend sounds like a wonderful guy to be around and i'm sure he'll keep you in his thoughts wherever he is. maybe, in some way, he will even let you know that. i believe that even though you may not be seeing him for awhile you will have the chance to see him again. (and then you could tell him everything you didn't get a chance to say--or you could tell him now. he'd probably listen. and maybe even giggle. )

the video you posted for "dancing in the sky" is such a lovely song (and that girl's voice is absolutely beautiful on it it). thank you for sharing that. take good care.

i'm so sorry for your loss

your mom sounds wonderful

after my mom died i decided to continue celebrating her birthday by having a dinner with some of her favorite foods (or something i knew she'd like) and even a cake. maybe it sounds crazy, but i even set a place at the table for her. and put a single candle on the cake.

i don't know -- her birthday was one of the family traditions in a way, and suddenly stopping it seemed so heart-wrenchingly difficult for me. i mean, we always celebrated it together, i was always happy she was born, (i still am), so why should i pretend the day is just like any other?

that first mother's day without her i even bought a card, wrote in it and tucked it away.

it's a lovely tribute you posted. and memorial donations to a county museum is a wonderful idea. i bet she appreciated that.

"She will be greatly missed on this earthly plane, but she has joined her beloved ancestors on another." what a beautiful thing to say that speaks of life's continuum.

my heart goes out to you.

fun with stardust

"Thus the amount of stardust atoms in our body is 40%."
"Since stardust atoms are the heavier elements, the percentage of star mass in our body is much more impressive. Most of the hydrogen in our body floats around in the form of water. The human body is about 60% water and hydrogen only accounts for 11% of that water mass. Even though water consists of two hydrogen atoms for every oxygen, hydrogen has much less mass. We can conclude that 93% of the mass in our body is stardust. Just think, long ago someone may have wished upon a star that you are made of."

thank you, and everyone else, for being here

and listening. and caring.

i am sorry we have all lost, and hurt, and continue to hurt, and struggle to heal. yet i am thankful to have you and everyone else here.

so often i allow my emotions to pour out here. it feels safe. i am in the company of other unfortunates who are in the know.

i recently found this on a headstone:
"Goodbyes Are Not Forever
Goodbyes Are Not The End
They Simply Mean I’ll Miss You
Until We Meet Again"

i'm glad you kept her recipes and have such nice memories of her cooking

the last number of years i was with my mom i did all of the cooking. so it's not so much her cooking i miss as it is her company, her laugh, her conversations with me, her silly phraseology (like the word "spaghett"; just the general physicality of her being here.
i miss *her*
the essence of *her*
and sometimes that longing sneaks up on me when i least expect it
sometimes i feel it is there, repressed, and lingering in the background

but it always seems to find a way to surface (sooner if not later)

lately it hits me when i'm in the grocery store and pass near the card & floral section. there are all these st. patrick's day cards, balloons, shamrocks -- and (not that st. paddy's day was so all important to us because it wasn't) -- but it reminds me of so much of the fun we would have anticipating, decorating, party planning, surprising, getting to celebrate any holiday--just for the fun of it. (from when i was little, and all through my life and with my daughter--my mom was such an integral part of the joy in my life.) (don't get me wrong--we had our ups and downs and arguments and fights. but we were always genuine with each other. but overall, we were both happy as hell to have each other in our lives.)

and seeing this celebratory stuff in the store just gets to me, you know? i start tearing up. i have to move quickly past it, around it, through it. because i miss that joy--that any little reason to celebrate and have fun, that happiness. it's gone.

it's just been really hard finding that sense of joy again. so far i've been very unsuccessful. and i miss it so badly.

how wonderful it feels to think "i have a wonderful life"

i just want to tell you that if i hadn't been at the receiving end of some pretty unique experiences i'd be completely skeptical of anything other than the "when you're dead you're dead" mindset.

and without launching into my laundry list of examples and experiences i will say with certainty that there is life after this life

(i also believe that the life we are currently in is not the first incarnation we have had, and that we travel in soul groups, plan incarnations, decide on the relationships and roles we will have with each other, and what lessons we can help teach & learn from one another, as well as the joy and happiness we can share)

and, i believe, it is love that keeps us connected to those who have moved on before us; our love for them and their love for us. i believe they either stay with us or move around us or visit every now and then because of their love for us.

"we are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience." --pierre teilhard de chardin

you said "i know this love can't go on forever" -- i think you're mistaken.
your situation / circumstances will alter with time as you grow older (changes in a job, housing, health, physicality, etc.) but love is the one thing that *can* go on forever.
and it does.

of course, i don't expect you will drop all skepticism and suddenly believe what i'm telling you. (but you'll find out--eventually)

check out "through the wormhole; season two"
disc one: is there life after death?
you could probably order it through your library
it looks interesting.

thanks peggy

i guess my emotions found me/caught up to me tonight as i reached in the cupboard for a box of angel hair pasta.

i've been trying to dodge them ever since but it appears that there is no where to hide from them tonight. maybe i haven't been giving them enough attention lately and that would explain why they are being so pesty and demanding, following me around, sneaking up on me, jumping out at me when i least expect it--causing me to actually "gasp" before they actually hit me full on.

i had some work i thought i wanted to get done tonight. maybe i really didn't want to get it done tonight after all.

sometimes it's the simple things

no one can take the pain away
and it comes and goes and ebbs and flows

it sneaks up on you when you think you’re doing alright and then you say out loud, (to yourself of course): let’s make some spaghett.

“spaghett” -- a phrase not belonging to you
a phrase spoken by the one whom you just can’t seem to get over
a phrase you would give anything to hear them speak again

not even a phrase
but a word. a single fucking word.
and upon realization of that--your world tumbles, crumbles apart around you once again.

and through the tears and refreshed trauma
you think: i hope this spaghetti dinner is worth it--worth all the emotional turmoil it’s putting me through

and you’re no longer hungry--don’t feel like eating a damn thing.

and the drink you make doesn’t kill the pain fast enough, doesn’t numb the heart quick enough,
doesn’t stop the thought process nearly enough.

god, you miss them so much.

and you know you’ll eat the spaghetti anyway. might as well. look at all you’ve gone through just to make it.

whoever would have thought making spaghetti could be so heart-wrenchingly difficult?

you knew. there was never a doubt in your mind.

when my dad died (25 years ago!) i had the a similar experience

and i remember i was also driving. everything seemed so surreal--the day was still happening, the beautiful clouds (which he often noticed and mentioned) were in the sky, the cars and traffic out on the road, the stop lights still worked, the world was turning just like everything was so normal. and in my world nothing was normal.

in my world everything had changed and altered. and it was surreal because the outside world seemed unaware and completely unaffected. and how could that possibly be?

when my mom died i was so aware of that experience i had with my dad that i watched & waited to feel it once again. but i didn't. not sure why. maybe because after experiencing it once i was too aware of that mind trick/sensation? maybe because i had already been shown that "life goes on" for the rest of the world even when my world tumbles down. i don't know.

i know her death hit me a lot harder. i had her to lean on when i lost my dad. she was my rock and my strength. her and i were always a lot closer. and we were together 20 years more.

"Life Goes On"

"If I should go before the rest of you
Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone
Nor when I'm gone speak in a Sunday voice
But be the usual selves that I have known.
Weep, if you must,
Parting is hell,
But life goes on,
So sing as well."
--Joyce Grenfell (english actress, comedienne. from her books "hats off" and "joyce and ginnie; the letters of joyce grenfell and virginia graham" --both collections put together and edited by janie hampton, published posthumously.)

i recently ran across this in a book of memorial poetry.

(it has become glaringly obvious that life does, in fact, go on. for better or worse. i'm still working on that singing part)

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