Monday
I have nothing.
I feel like “Miss Conduct” ought to have wise words about civility and the inherent difficulty of living with others. She should be able to put the events of this weekend into historical context. She should give her readers hope.
I can’t.
Maybe because I lost someone I loved and respected on Friday night, and that has thrown me off balance. Maybe because the reactions of my family to this weekend’s shooting have me eating my guts out from within. Perhaps Robin has too much going on to be Miss Conduct.
Or maybe Miss Conduct has nothing to say. No wisdom. No snappy retort.
I spent a lot of time on Sunday reading the Psalms. And listening to the Ramones. Both are remarkably cathartic in times of emotional upheaval. (I wanna be sedated. Selah.)
Find wiser words elsewhere. Already more ink has been spilled than blood.
All I have for you is the knowledge that you matter to me. You do. Friend or commenter or lurker, I love you.
I may take a break from this blog for a couple of days. I don’t know. Please don’t worry about me if I do — it won’t mean I’m not capable of writing, only that I need to take care of myself in other ways.
Take care of yourselves too.
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13 Responses to “Monday”
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So sorry you lost someone you love, thinking of you and hoping you feel better soon!
So very sorry, Robin. I think I remember excellent advice you gave to someone who was mourning, but felt they should “get over it.” — You told them to wallow in it. Excellent advice.
I’ve followed that advice, myself, choosing to wallow in the memories — full time for a few days, and then periodically there after. Love those memories nearly as much as I loved the person.
This may be un-needed advice, but a wise lady once told me that the grief from a loss will last about two years. Not the wallowing, just the “coming to terms”.
I have since found this to be very true as loved ones have predeceased me. Only you know how long you need to reflect. Best wishes.
Of all the ink that’s been spilled since Saturday, this is the first piece of writing to make me weep. Robin, I wish I could give you a hug right now. And please know that we love you too. Take care, my friend. Our friend.
During bad times, I always end up turning to my dogs for comfort. Perhaps a cuddle with Milo will provide you some solace.
I’m sorry to read of your loss Robin.
This post sums up a lot of our feelings regarding the tragedy in Arizona.
Let the grief have its way, and let those who love you, love you.
A wise professor of mine once wrote about the language of flowers …
Robin, it’s not much but here’s a virtual bouquet for you. It’s composed of snowdrop and white poppies to bring light to the whatever brings you comfort and solace, rosemary for rememberance, the balm of my sympathy & the elderflowers of your compassion, and a sprig of fennel that symbolizes strength.
If you say not to worry, I won’t worry, but this mostly lurking reader is thinking kind thoughts of you and hoping you have all the supports you need and want.
Tea, Milo, a cozy quilt, maybe a little Brahms.
Or Psalms and the Ramones–
you have the wisdom you need.
We love you, too.
Robin, I am sorry to hear that you are hurting. Take care of yourself – we’ll be here when you are ready to come back.
All I know is that it meant a lot to be able to visit here yesterday and know that you were thinking about us. Somehow, when we were paying attention to other things, it seems we became more than a virtual neighborhood. More like a virtual family.
I hope you know that we are thinking about you, too. As akmom said, we will ALL be here when you are ready to come back. And we’ll be ready to talk about anything you want to talk about.
My love and sympathy to you and your friends and family. Take care of yourself.
May you find peace, Robin.