Thursday, August 07, 2008

Blogiversary

I realized today that as of a few weeks ago I've been blogging for 4 years now. And, it was almost exactly two years ago when I wrote this post. When I think about that time, that horrific, horrible time, it's almost as if it's a movie I saw once. It's weird, but I've actually had the thought of asking some of you, those of you who've been with me from the beginning, to tell me about that time. It's almost as if I wasn't really "there".

This may sound odd, it does to me, but I have never gone back and looked at any of the posts from back then since the time that I wrote them. And so, today, I thought I'd give it a shot and just scoot back into the archives and take a peek. I pulled up the one that I linked to because it was the one title I DO remember writing. Honestly, of all the things that went on during that time, one of my most coherent memories is of sitting down at the computer and writing something titled "I Hurt." And that's seriously my most vivid memory from the entire ordeal of that week that went by when Tdub made the decision to leave.

I pulled that post up, read it, and immediately began to sob uncontrollably. It was a very physical sort of reaction. It was almost as distinct as flipping a switch, no kidding. And it just happened. I didn't work my way into it or get mopey and sad first or anything. I just read it and then sobs burst out. Very. Very. Strange.

I'm over it now. The sobbing, I mean. Which is why I'm writing this. It's just so very odd to me. The sobbing stopped almost as quickly as it came and I decided to look at a few of the posts preceeding that one because I've wondered on reflection if there were any clues that could have alerted me at the time as to what was about to happen.

I found this quote from the book I'd read that summer:

"Closing Sohrab's door, I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded, not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night." (from The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini)

I posted that quote 10 days before the "I Hurt" post. And I'm not sure what to make of any of it which is why I'm writing about it. The only thing I can come up with is that the "I Hurt" post is very much like a gravestone marker.

I remember being at my Granny's graveside service. Not far from the place where we were burying her was the marker and grave of a very young cousin of mine who'd been killed in a truck accident about 6 months before. His mom, one of my aunts, had been holding things together just fine for the entire time. But eventually, some strange force seemed to pull her away and she walked over to her son's marker. As she was just close enough to be able to read his name, she burst into huge, gasping sobs and fell to her knees at that site. She is a woman full of faith and confident in the knowledge that she will see her son again in heaven. Yet, she will never fully overcome the sense of loss she suffered when she is faced directly with the marker of his death. And why should she? It hurts.

I don't for a moment presume to compare this situation in terms of the depth of pain suffered. I refuse to entertain the thought of losing one of my boys. And yet, it must be similar in the way the physical reaction can sweep over you in an instant. We are strange and wonderful creatures indeed in that we are set up to respond in this way to certain life-altering events.

I don't have a catchy ending or moral to tell for the end of this post. I am sort of interested to know if any of you have ever experienced anything similar to this.

love and grace,
pam






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4 comments:

Curlz said...

This was beautiful and poignant no special ending necessary.

seithman said...

I'm with curlz on this one. Beautiful post, Pam.

Iain said...

Hi, Grace,

You asked if anyone had experienced something similar to what you experienced today. Here's mine.

I'm not one who cries much. (Typically emotionally stunted male!!) But I remember when my father died in 1993 going home to spend some time with my Mum & arrange funeral etc. There was just one moment, when we were listening to an especially beautiful piece of music ("Four Last Songs" by Richard Strauss), which had been an instant family favourite with all of us the first time we heard it.

At a single point during one of these songs, at the most beautiful moment, I suddenly found myself shaking with sobs. In truth it only lasted a few seconds, and yet it brought a huge sense of release, and of something that needed to happen - to come to terms in a real sense with the loss, and to feel the grief that I was pointlessly trying to suppress to be brave for my Mum.

My only regret was that the entire episode happened when my Mum was out of the room & so she only got to see me "in control". I would have liked her to have seen just how much I cared - unfortunately we British are shockers at putting a stopper on our emotions :-(

I'm hoping that your grief today brought you a similar sense of healing.

Inheritor of Heaven said...

I have and I assume will continue at certain moments to experience emotions such as that (you know my current situation).