The warm temperatures faded slightly, but I still was unable to motivate myself to move around at light speed yesterday. Sometimes my eyes grew weepy, and other times I actually laughed at a memory. I let myself float through the day.
Phone calls and email give us words like these from the J2’s about Lee, “A lot of folks will miss him; the Spreckles Organ Society, the Cactus and Succulent group, the Friends of the Blind, and there are more groups Lee was significantly involved with than I can remember right now, or even know about. …We ALL have lost such a good friend.”
I took a moment to let my fingers recreate the sequence of events at the hospital with doctors and tests. I did manage to print them out for today’s doctor visit then the phone calls started. Marion’s friends, all wordsmiths, used the phone. I was much comforted by their voices and hope I said something through my thickness that comforted them.
The sun partially drilled its way through the clouds, and I made that cabbage-chicken salad using the sharpened blades on the 1938 Sunbeam food processor. It still macerated rather than slice….darn. Don came to dinner, and her first remarks about my machine were, “Gee, that’s old.” I felt old too, but dinner on the deck was delightful. No usual cold breeze to chill us through to the bone.
I’m still not able to say what I’m feeling about Marion. Am I afraid she will she vanish if I say I loved her?
I sense what you're saying is that words are inadequate to measure your loss right now. It may sound weird but when someone I love dies, immediately the thoughts pop into my head how they're now all the pain and heartache they've suffered. Best of all none of those things that may life in our futures, they are protected from. Why that comforts me I can't say, but it does. I wish you peace.
ReplyDeleteleft the word "beyond" out of the sentence in my comment above. My bad.
ReplyDeleteWow! I gotta learn to edit before I push publish. That sounds "wonky."
ReplyDeleteI think sometimes we long for comfort that doesn't come except with time. I know that you blessed the lives of your loved ones.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I don't know what to write to you. I read your posts and feel the pain, but have no comfort to give you. I would like to hold your hand, put my arm around your shoulders, but even then, I would have nothing to say. I will stay with you, regardless.
ReplyDeleteOf course you love her.
ReplyDeletemage-- my condolences. memories that live on and ongoing friends help us go on, laughing and crying sometimes at once.
ReplyDeleteSaying you love Marion out loud will probably keep her closer. Keep that love close.
ReplyDeleteI agree with the others that you must hold on to the knowledge that you love your Marion, even if she has died. You don't need her here and now to continue loving her. My heart-felt condolences.
ReplyDeleteYou will see Marion again and again in various ways and once this wound begins to heal seeing her will make you smile. So sorry for your loss. You photo reminds me of my recent drive through the wheat fields of Canada.
ReplyDeleteMarion won't vanish -- not as long as those she touched are alive.
ReplyDeleteProust says we're an amalgam of all of those with whom we've come into contact. Everyone you know from this time forward will take some of Marion's energy with them. It goes on forever.