Grief is hard because there's nothing to be done about it. Daily, I mean. It's a huge emotion that always takes precedence and when it comes you know that's what you're doing for the next hour or ten. It soaks the brain and expands. It dampens everything else.
No amount of sacrifice or spending will help. There's no one to call. You can't ask for the manager, you can't file an appeal. You can't even file a complaint. It's a rare thing to encounter something you can't complain about through bureaucratic channels.
It's a beautiful day in New York today and I couldn't care less.
Saturday, September 1, 2007
75 Degrees and Breezy
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
the fucking "island reggae" station here in paradise plays a "hawaiian" version of No Woman No Cry. It replaces all the words so it's no longer has any political significance. For instance, a line goes "I remmember, when we use to surf, on the North Shore in Princeville..."
Whenever the song comes on I scream out and curse this fucking island, which is paradise, along with the whole fucking world.
I feel you, and I love you.
Oh my god. I knew that Hawaii was a different place, but, "when we used to surf . . ." yuk!!!!
Mir - you'r right about grief. It's overwhelming . . . your going along having a fine day and then you see something, or hear something, or smell something, or think about that great big beautiful boy and then it's down the tubes . . . you just have the HUGE LOSS.
I love you,
Di
You are not alone, Mir.
The voices of those who love you are whispering across time and space, each and every agonizing moment saying "I know sweetheart, I know."
You are not alone.
Post a Comment