Comments on: Home

By: Girija

Girija — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 16:05:28 +0000

The music of Annie Lennox. Especially her Medusa CD, song # 8. It states it all for the wrongful death of my brother, Dave, 46.

By: writinggb

writinggb — Thu, 30 Oct 2008 01:59:22 +0000

Hi, Linda. I’m still out here. Sorry not to stop by in a while, but I’m glad to see you writing more. This is a beautiful post, full of thoughtfulness and wisdom…as usual. Life and death so intertwined. Yes.

By: Author

Author — Mon, 20 Oct 2008 18:56:16 +0000

Linda,

I so love this post on so many different levels. You write so beautifully. i feel your pain. But I feel your joy too – still there waiting…
I wonder if I may quote a few line from my novel that sums up how I feel having read this post:

We are the same
We come from that same magical place
To share the same journey
towards the self same destination
We are of the same tribe.

Best wishes …

By: shadowlands1501

shadowlands1501 — Sun, 19 Oct 2008 14:02:03 +0000

Linda,
Thanks for the video. My husband was Native American and it seemed that where ever we would go, a hawk could be sighted. When we moved here, there was a hawk that would sail over the fields. My husband would say, “There is my Hawk”"
I haven’t seen the Hawk since his death…I keep looking…
Thanks for sharing your pain and sharing the wonderful music…

By: Roads

Roads — Fri, 17 Oct 2008 23:43:42 +0000

Yes, a life lost and yet life bursting out all around you.

It’s bloody ironic. As Alanis Morissette would agree.

By: sparkle333

sparkle333 — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 09:52:54 +0000

I SO relate to this, especially today. After visiting with my mom (in the nursing home) for several hours this afternoon, and realizing that she didn’t remember anything about our talk a couple of days ago, concerning the choices we have to make about her living arrangements, I was devastated. I have been told by the staff that she doesn’t retain information, and yet I had not experienced it as poignantly as today. The relief we felt the other night (after finally discussing the options with her), evaporated this afternoon in the hall, as I pushed her wheelchair by our favorite male nurse. She happily called out, “I’m going home in about 3 weeks.”

(Another break in my already broken heart.)

As I left the nursing home this evening, I was in a mindless place, and as I talked with my husband from my car, I broke down. I wondered how much worse this memory loss was going to get, and how quickly it would progress. How long would she remember me? Tears filled my eyse, and I cried with occasional loud sobs. It was just too much.

On the way home, I had to go by Walmart, and pick up some of my many meds from the pharmacy. Feeling as I did, I wasn’t at all in the mood to be sociable. I was still fighting back the tears.

But an adorable, chubby-cheeked little girl walked up to her mother, who was standing in line in front of me. Her face was captivating, and she seemed filled with all the wonder and excitement of living that I have lost. I asked how old she was, and she proudly held up 4 fingers. I was surprised, because she was quite tall. Her mother shared that her 5th birthday was Saturday, and then the little girl asked her mother to show her (by counting on her fingers), just how many days that would be.

“How exciting to have a birthday so soon! That will be so much fun”, I said. (I was actually feeling a little thrill just watching her delighted face, that could not hide her sheer happiness.)

And like you, (at the sight of the bird’s nest), I was reminded that life goes on, in spite of where we are in it. Old people die(and sometimes young), and babies are born, and the rest of us are somewhere in between. And for all the bitterness that life can bring at times, it is also filled with simple beauty. And all the tragedies that it affords, cannot take away the inspiring moments…

I know that God made it this way, to give us a reason to go on living–to give us hope. In my better moments I treasure this truth…