"Forever, darling"

My sweet George,

You have been and forever will be my heart, light, and joy.  

Thank you for sharing your wonderful life and “gift of adventure,” everything I ever wanted.  You gave me the moon.  Now, dance among the stars.

Happy 25^th Anniversary, darling. 

I will always love you...

Donna

"Grief," Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless;

That only men incredulous of despair,

Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air

Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access

Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness,

In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare

Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare

Of the absolute heavens. Deep-hearted man, express

Grief for thy dead in silence like to death—

Most like a monumental statue set

In everlasting watch and moveless woe

Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.

Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet:

If it could weep, it could arise and go.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

"Tis the Season...."

Broken souls

Erin Hanson

"We are all broken.  That's how the light gets in,"
Ernest Hemingway

Audra McDonald,

"Through the Mountain"

In quiet moments of despair

I had a bad afternoon yesterday with moments of being overwhelmed, I guess.

I continue to be exhausted from riding the roller coaster. I tend to crash, then pull myself together because I have no choice. I have things I MUST accomplish which can be a blessing and a curse. It's impossible for me to live in any place for very long. The grieving process for me is more about shifting from one stage to the other in the moment--particularly denial-sadness-acceptance.

“Acceptance?” I haven't really figured that one out. Yes, I accept death, but I also accept life. In other words, I think more about George living than dying. Death is transient but life is eternal even if it’s just a memory.  So I just don't dwell on George not coming home, for example, although I've grown to ”accept” that reality. With or without tears, I can easily talk about George in the past as a continuation of living. Acceptance doesn't mean pretending George never existed--for me at least.

I've only visited "anger" on occasion. I REFUSE to stay angry for any more than a “hot minute." We are ALL doing the very best that we can. NOBODY wants this outcome--absolutely no one--not even God and/or The Universe. So anger is pointless. And I refuse to be bitter by second-guessing, blaming, and criticizing.

Finally, there’s my old nemesis Depression. I don't know if it's the Zoloft keeping me from ruminating.  Or perhaps I had such a bad experience with depression, I simply WON'T allow myself to be depressed. I am consumed with inconsolable grief, complete with heartbreak, sadness, and mourning-- definitely. Depressed? I REFUSE to go there.

In certain ways, to describe grieving as a "process" is a by-product of solitude. Most of us don't have that luxury except in quiet moments of despair:

"Grief is the natural response when someone you love is torn from your life. It is a natural process: a process of the heart being smashed and broken open, of reality shifting and hurling in place. It cares nothing for order or stages.

The truth is, you can’t force an order on pain. You can’t make it tidy or predictable. The stages of grief are a net thrown over a fogbank — they help neither to define nor contain," "The Five Stages of Grief and Other Lies That Don't Help Anyone, " Megan Devine.  

"In the bleak midwinter..."

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,

In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;

Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.

In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim, worship night and day,

Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;

Enough for Him, whom angels fall before,

The ox and ass and camel which adore.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,

Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;

But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,

Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.

What can I give Him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;

If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;

Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart-

Christina Rossetti

The Lewisham Healthcare NHS Trust Choir

"Icarus laughed..."

Asteroid Icarus

Quoth the Raven,
Cara Berger