dis-mantel
"Our bodies know," I began an essay last February. February always means grief to me. The 17th is the ninth anniversary of my beloved Beowulf's death. The 21st is the birthday of my father-in-law, who died the same year. My grandmother died in early March.
Rather than rewrite history afresh for the prompt, I lead you to Calendar.
Don't think I'll be skipping a poem for the week. That's in the works.
Labels: "poetry thursday" grief essay
posted by fuquinay at 11:30 AM
speak!
11 Comments:
I read your post on grief. It's true, grief does diminish but it never entirely goes away. When my daughter was diagnosed as handicapped it felt like she died. My dream daughter died. For years after that, her birthdays were awful for me, full of tears and sadness. But every year was less painful. Now she will be fifteen in June and it doesn't hurt too much at all, but there is still a small nugget of grief, lodged next to my heart that makes my heart ache from time to time.
Is the photo of the dog on your blog Beowulf?
2/19/2007 1:44 PM
Deb, thank you for your comment. I'm sorry. I wish I could tell people it will go away completely. It never does. The dog is Chance. In the photo for the post, the first dog is Buddha, hit by a car. The second dog is Wulf, Buddha's dad.
2/19/2007 2:15 PM
Per your post on grief: I agree. My body feels it too. I mourn my mother, father, grandmother and favorite pets like clockwork. Sometimes it's a thought or two. Other times it comes on a little stronger, but it's there... reminding me that a piece of me isn't there any more.
Thanks for leading me to your thoughts on the subject.
2/19/2007 4:53 PM
I'm not a fan of February either; so short, and still the same amount of bills to pay.
2/21/2007 1:50 PM
Funny, most of the time I type adoggysface.blogspot and have to think a few minutes before the life part comest to mind. Not because it's February, but because I think slowly.
Also, it took me several minutes of searching and thinking what is a worry bone. And I still don't get it. All those February postings, I'll blame the month for my English and slow brain (-:
Hope things are going well!
2/21/2007 11:03 PM
As I read this and the accompanying comments, I couldn’t help but think about how little we’re taught about how to die well. How to make peace with death in our own lifetime, so the task isn’t left undone for those who will mourn us. And to pass our peace on to them so they’ll have that when it’s our time to go. Living should include more preparation for dying well. Very thought provoking piece Leslie. Thanks for sharing.
By the way, ever since you left your comment on Gautami’s post last week (about always finding adverbs suspect and trying to use a stronger verb instead) I haven’t been able to use an adverb without hearing that advice in my head!!! Several times I’ve found myself saying “What the hell verb should I use then?!” Anyway, good advice!
2/22/2007 4:34 PM
I'm interested in my own perceptions when I rub up against your calendar. The only thing I relate to the calendar is weather. Storms come in November, January and February bring short dreary days and long nights. Other memories relate more to artifacts and events. When I look around the room all the dreadful past comes back.
2/23/2007 2:41 AM
8 years for Beowulf, I'm so sorry. For me, April is tough: my Teddy died seven years ago this April 12 and I still can't speak of that dog without tears. This April will also be the 4th anniversary of my grandmother's death, which should make my grief one-sixteenth of what it was initially? Doesn't seem like it, does it?
What a well-written and moving post. I'm very sorry for all of your losses. Summer will be here soon.
2/23/2007 4:10 PM
I am the youngest of fifty or so grandchildren, aunts and uncles galore, so I have been through more deaths than I can count, most before I turned 20. Even friends and pets have gone before me. My father is older so I also witnessed him getting dressed in a coat and tie to go to countless wakes. Death has never been anything but a fact of life for me, yet I have not lost my mom or dad (Thank God!), so I suppose I won't really know death until then.
Anyway, your essay was thought-provoking and so very well-written. Your voice is so good. I think that is what makes an essay (and in your case, poetry) sing.
You know, though, our favorite cat was hit by a car while we were having a garage sale two years ago, and we have not let any of our cats out during a garage sale since.
2/24/2007 7:26 PM
I am so sorry for all of your losses. Believe me, I know about it. Even though I've been through some serious losses lately, I can't even imagine losing one of my dogs. They have been too much of a comfort lately, that I can't imagine how I would have coped without them.
Death is too hard. Grief is too hard. I have a better grasp of what it is now, but I am still confused sometimes with death and how I am supposed to deal. If grief gets 50% easier each year, you never get to zero. It never gets to absolute zero. Every molecule is changed.
2/27/2007 4:22 PM
Leslie,
February represents a string of grief-events for me. Not just death, but the end of relationships, the end of an era, too. Death as well. Somehow, February was better this year. I hope that happens for you? Still, I was relieved when March showed up at the door, in all her calendar scruffiness.
3/06/2007 11:05 PM
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