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Still sick. Actually feel worse. I've cancelled my first two classes in hopes some rest will help me get better. Don't want to cancel the third 'cause they only meet twice a week. We'll see what the morning brings.

Duchezz got to Saratoga alright and is at the Grand Matron's dinner as we speak. She'll have fun, and I think it will be good for her to be away for a bit. Before she left she put out the Hallowe'en flags and put up some of the other things. We aren't doing the village this year, though. The Boy was going to build us a "ground" with sufficient outlets, and it was just a bit too much to ask of ourselves to deal with those and remember all the conversations we'd had about how to make it work. Next year maybe.

This morning Duchezz made oatmeal for breakfast (we like oatmeal for breakfast). When I brought my bowl out I saw she'd put a stick of butter on the table. I asked what it was for.
"I know we put it out." Pause. "I couldn't remember who uses it."
"The Boy."
She picked the butter up and took it back to the frig. She said the blessing, because I couldn't. Today was one of her strong days. Mornings I'm never strong.

I miss him. I know I say it all the time, perhaps too much, but it's true--with every breath I draw.

I worry that I've reached that point where friends say to themselves "Enough already. Shut your yap about it, fer chrissakes." Which hurts just to think about. A pain I don't need on top of the pain that should be unbearable, but that I'm bearing anyway. Beating myself up because I haven't taken to my bed. Haven't been inconsolable, at least outwardly. And at the same time berating myself for the moments I really can't stop the tears. For being, as the doctor so coldly put it in my patient file "A bit weepy." For feeling that I just can't bear it and have to do that curling up and rocking back and forth as I wail in pain.

So, here I am, afraid I've used up the good will; feeling like I've betrayed him by those minutes and hours when I do cope, when I do function; feeling worthless for hurting so much and not being stronger. Those three states do not co-exist very comfortably in one heart, and yet I fear they must.

Thursday on CSI the grief counselor was working with the team, trying to help them with Warrick's death. The counselor, played by the always worthwhile Alex Kingston, was telling Grissom that the inability to concentrate was part of the grieving process. He asked how long it would last. She replied "Sometimes weeks, sometimes months. Sometimes years. It takes as long as it takes." I want it to be done, over, tomorrow. Even more, I want it to never end, because when it ends it means that he has moved from the now of my life to the past. I'm not willing to think about a day that could be true.

Yup. Sick. Forget the blather.
For a touch of sunshine, congratulations to harpduchess on being named a Tyger of the East. Very much deserved. Vivat!


( 36 comments — Leave a comment )
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Oct. 26th, 2008 10:03 pm (UTC)
This friend isn't even close to that, and it's your fricking LJ.

You post whatever you want, and we will listen and respond.

We know you needed us then, and you need us now.

One of the OTC medallions went to one of Stephen's squires (Asgar) and originally, we are told, came from His Grace.

Alethea noticed there was an Eastern Star event going on in Saratoga.
Oct. 26th, 2008 10:04 pm (UTC)
It will never be "enough already" until it is enough. You can weep to me any time you need to, for as long as you need to. And he will always be in the present as long as we remember him.
(Deleted comment)
Oct. 27th, 2008 09:29 pm (UTC)
The same for me. 16 years, and I still cry sometimes. But I also do the "he would have loved that!" and smile much more frequently. And I can even smile and say "she would have loved that!" but there is a bit of a tear.
Oct. 26th, 2008 10:11 pm (UTC)
If you were to stop feeling the way you do, tomorrow,
I'd be more concerned.

"It takes as long as it takes." The best line I've ever heard from a TV show.

Oct. 26th, 2008 10:14 pm (UTC)
Okay, once again it's going to sound like I'm making it all about me but maybe the best way I can help put this into perspective is to show you why some of us really understand some of your pain.

My best friend in Vietnam died in the process of saving my life. Just thinking of him right this very moment drives me to tears. Sometimes I find myself letting out big whooping sobs because I miss him so damned much and feel so damned guilty over it. Yes, I do the "what ifs" and "if only's". I never loved a man as much as him. To some degree you will always grieve. To some degree you will always have days or moments when you feel like you can't continue. And you will always, at the weirdest moments, find yourself turning to share a joke, smile or moment of joy, only to discover that he's not there and will never be again.

So don't you DARE ever feel that you will either be told to shut up (sorry, Liam, it was callous of me) or to stop sharing the pain.

Yes, Love, it's true. It takes as long as it takes.

So many of us love you.

Oct. 26th, 2008 10:17 pm (UTC)
still here. Always here.
Oct. 26th, 2008 10:21 pm (UTC)
You would not hear "shut your yap" from me. This is your space, your place to talk about what ever you want.

You fear you have grieved too deeply but yet not at all.

Yet you live.

I think we all worry about how we grieve. What is socially acceptable and what is expected. Especially as women who were perhaps raised to be "tough".

I have over the weeks thought to myself how can i bother folks with some piece of trivial information or concern when we have lost someone so dear to us.

We all miss him, certainly not as deeply as you and ro who were his life, but never feel as though we do not want to hear your thoughts or feelings about him.

I miss him too but what can we do but live?

Feel better -
Oct. 26th, 2008 10:27 pm (UTC)

There isn’t a time limit on grief. Everyone grieves differently. Some people think that it is a matter of getting through all of the big things, like the holidays. So often it is getting through all of the little things, like butter on the table.

When the time is ready, you will know how to move forward, and I’m sure you will figure out a way to do it so he will always be in the “now” with you.

I’m still here, listening. You can keep writing about your feelings for as long as you need too. I don’t mind.
Oct. 26th, 2008 10:32 pm (UTC)
I cannot imagine an amount that would be enough to make me say 'enough already'.

Even more, I want it to never end, because when it ends it means that he has moved from the now of my life to the past.

I don't actually think that we ever move from the now to the past. I think we just occupy the now in different ways. We carry them all forward into the future with us. Sometimes in big ways, eventually in smaller ways. Never gone.
Oct. 26th, 2008 10:32 pm (UTC)
Oh honey if I didnt think it would overwhelm you I would point you to parts of my LJ where I have said the very same thing too the word.

Please belive me we can be gentaler to you than you are to yourself mainly because its been 1000's of hours in your brain and less than an hour of listening to it on our part.

I did things like put books aside for him to read, or kept saying oh he would like this hell even bought milk in gal sizes since well thats what we did. It will take a while to stop some of those habbits, hopfuly it will get to make you smile someday.

Hang on just hang on.

Oct. 26th, 2008 10:35 pm (UTC)
We are still grieving wiht you. I wasn't nearly as close to any of you as I'd've liked to be, but even I'm still getting weepy from time to time.
I wish I could wave some magic wand and help you bear it, but the grief is part of loving and it will take as long as it takes. I read and I care and I do and I will.

When it will help, or you're needing a getaway, I have a cute little (stress little) chartreuse guest room with many may books and a comfy bed. I am a quick streetcar ride to many good things, and a reasonable drive to The Cheese Boutique (Ask Dicea and Ekat). Toronto's a fun weekend vacay.
Meanwhile, share what it helps to share here; we will read and think of you.
Oct. 26th, 2008 10:51 pm (UTC)
I have only been with you a short time, and most of that spent out of Kingdom....

But for me, as so many others have already said, do not dare to think we are tired of anything. As was said on CSI - It takes as long as it takes, and I am willing to listen and hold your hand, and be your friend and your LIW for as long as you will have me.

We all love you. We all miss him. And we are all here for you and the Duchezz - for as long as you need us --- and even after that. (You are not going to get rid of us that easily you know... we are a persistent lot.)
Oct. 26th, 2008 10:56 pm (UTC)
Your process is normal and about what can be expected. That is actually a plus, because it means you're doing what normal people in your position do.

If you were over it this soon, I would be pretty alarmed.

I have no clue if that is comforting or not, but it is my way of saying that doing the 'sad widow' thing is okay. It will be okay for as long as it gives you what you need. Grief does have a purpose for something other than to generate endless hours of listless suckage. :/
Oct. 26th, 2008 11:14 pm (UTC)
Well, you let me know when you're done listening to me whine about my back pain, then we'll count the ten years that you've put up with it, and about then I could maybe start thinking about possibly running out of patience with you.


Just plain love you. Talking out your pain in your forum is your choice, and definitely better than not talking it out.

Oh, and if anyone says ANYTHING along the lines of "shut yer yap", do please let me know.

I'm pretty sure I can turn something like that into some good street theater.
Oct. 26th, 2008 11:25 pm (UTC)
Sweetie, it was three whole months before I went 24 hours without weeping. And then it didn't happen again for another three months. You should not be "over it" yet.

The truth is that we are never "over it." You still mourn your brother. I still mourn my mother and brother, though it's been 21 and 35 years, respectively. We will both always mourn our husbands, and yet feel guilty for going on with our lives, because emotions can be a tangled mess that don't always make sense.

Your friends understand, and are filled with tremendous compassion and infinite patience.

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