Grief Is A Room In Our Home
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We all find ourselves here.
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It seems so unfair, doesn't it? Well, it is, I suppose. Unfair, and unfailing.
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It seems unendurable.
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I know, I know.
There, there.
It's okay.
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But there is stillness in this room. The world comes to a halt. Outside it continues its spinning and cacophony of noise, smell, taste, color, birth, death, and carnage unabated.
But here there is stillness.
Silence.
An achingly beautiful luminescence that deep grief brings to the plainest of things.
And the door is shut hard behind you.
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Don't be in any hurry to leave, for grief is a kind of medicine for the soul.
Though it works like a conflagration in you.
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May your grief leave diamonds in its wake.
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Namaste.
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posted by tearful dishwasher at 6:52 AM
14 Comments:
Your blog birthday and your words and your works and your souls and then this grief. I guess I don't know what to say except you make aches like nobody's business. that's not eloquent but it's what i feel.
I want happiness for you SO MUCH.
Your work is astounding.
love, dd
the grief takes hold.. deep in the chest muscle..it won't release until ITS ready... any movement feels like a challenge...just sit tight..wait...the release finally comes..raw like broken glass..diamonds.
we, too are crackheads for good movies. coppola (the elder, not sofia) has a new one that is grand: tetro. i think you would love it.
-april
"There, there, it's okay."
But it isn't okay.
It will never be okay ever again.
I know it sounds histrionic and immature and unreasonable and melodramatic, but that's how I've felt since my father died. It will be 9 years this fall since it hasn't been okay.
(There's this five year old girl inside of me who can't wrap her arms around that loss. It's too big to grasp, too slippery to hold. That little girl can't understand how the world can keep going round and round, how life can keep plowing forward when the person she loved most in this world and life died.)
(He would've loved Wallender. I've caught Wallender on PBS and damned love it.)
For me, the miracle is that we do anything other than grieve...that we dress in clothes that are not designed for mourning. The magnitude of loss for any one of us can scarcely be borne, yet it is sidestepped, flaring in exaggerated displays at the deaths of princesses and pop stars. Broken-hearted is a natural state.
such beautiful words from the Dishwasher and his replies. i am glad to have read and be part of all of it.
i think we must suck the joy out of the marrow of life unabashedly when it comes our way. then somehow it builds a bone strength that can be seen in the glint of an eye during the many times of storm...and a keen ear to hone in on the voices of those who can offer comfort, love. to find them.
xo
Such beauty in sorrow. Thank you Dishwasher. Your words are as ever so wise.
Greetings,
Writing and photo aside, I love the title. It is filled with imagination and conjures up to fill a novel.
Wishing you a wonderful Sunday,
Egmont
Thank you so much, everyone. I am so glad that you come here, so glad that you say what's on your mind, so glad we are all together.
What a sap, huh?
At any rate, my deep thanks to each of you.
yrs-
tearful
I'm timid, here, and not timid. This grief room speaks to me.
Welcome, Elizabeth. Thank you for coming by and saying hello. Hope you find more here that speaks to you.
Grief is only half of what we're here for.
yrs-
Scott
There are no diamonds in my grief. Only shards of glass
nurse myra-
i'm sorry. maybe it takes a million years. or two million.
some grief may be immutable. for me it has been like learning how to walk again after a stroke, or how I imagine that might be.
slow, halting, awkward, painful, frustrating, lots and lots of set backs.
i wish there were something for your pain, I really do.
all best-
Scott
Where the HELL did you get my picture?
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