Tag Archives: Loss

Jan 05 2014
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Things Left Unsaid

“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”   ― Harriet Beecher Stowe

“Remember not only to say the right thing in the right place, but far more difficult still, to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment.”  ― Benjamin Franklin

The New Year held lessons and reminders for me from the very beginning. First, I must acknowledge my gratitude for the outcome, it has given me an opportunity to practice what I’ve learned this week, which is to say the things left unsaid, and to quiet my voice when what I’m tempted to say is hurtful, unnecessary, or gossip. Continue reading →

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Dec 22 2013
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Snow Days

It is the morning after the longest night of the year, the Winter Solstice. Snow in big fluffy flakes is falling sideways, blowing easterly. Yesterday’s ice glazed trees and roads today are flocked in white. It is a snow day in Wisconsin. Continue reading →

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Nov 30 2013
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There Were Stories

I returned home from the holiday this year thinking about what awaits ahead, by reflecting on what lies behind. I thought of the the line from Shakespeare’s play, The Tempest. “The past is prologue.”  Poetry by T.S. Eliot also comes to mind.

“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.” 
― T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets

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Nov 27 2013
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Thanksgiving: Things Change

Holidays, like the changing seasons or the pages of a calendar recur, and though we often follow rituals and traditions like templates, things change. Two of my favorite quotes address change, the first by the Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, “The only constant is change” and the second  by Henry David Thoreau, American author, philosopher and naturalist who wrote in his book Walden, “Things do not change; we change.”  Both, I believe are true. Continue reading →

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Nov 24 2013
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Am I Blue?

“Am I blue, am I blue, ain’t these tears telling you, am I blue, you’d be too” —Billie Holiday

Blue Is the Warmest Color is the Cannes Film Festival’s Palme d’Or winning story of a young woman’s first love and loss. In an unusual move, the film’s French director, Abdellatif Kechiche, accepted the award alongside it’s two female leads, Léa Seydoux and Adèle Exarchopoulos. This was more surprising given the controversy surrounding the film and the working conditions for the actors who described the experience as “horrible.” Seydoux went even further when she said that Kechiche made her feel “like a prostitute.” Continue reading →

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Nov 02 2013
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There Will Be Stories

Like most other families, when mine gets together there will be stories. Some stories are the ritual retelling of past shared memories, the mythology we’ve created and strive to preserve. Other stories are simply gossip, told family-style, which in ours means we are usually talking about the absent relative, so there’s additional incentive to attend family gatherings if you want to protect your reputation or tell your side of the story. Lastly, we tell stories to impart our values and create a family legacy for the next generation. Continue reading →

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Sep 22 2013
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Motherless Daughters

“The death of a mother is the first sorrow wept without her.”  Author Unknown

First, I must state that my mother is alive and well (in a manner of speaking), 80 years old living with my father in the house I grew up in. I’m lucky. Today, I can go home again. I’m saddened and concerned however, that my mother struggles with health issues, some of which are her genetic legacy (and probably mine too), others the consequences of her choices. Those include being married to my father and giving birth to and raising six children while being a working mother. Did I say I was grateful to still have her in my life? I am. Continue reading →

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Sep 08 2013
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Stories We Tell/Stories Untold

Ever since I was a child, films, like good books, served as windows to worlds sometimes unfamiliar or far away due to distance in time or space. Movies depicted characters both fictional and historic, unraveled mysteries or documented adventures; they always engaged my emotions and attention. Some films are more familiar and familial, memoirs or morality tales that act like mirrors to my lived experience, or road maps of my internal journey. I prefer non-fiction to fiction. Most fiction, in my view, is simply reality in disguise, employed to protect the innocent and the guilty. As a memoirist I am most interested in the stories we tell and the stories untold about our lives.

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Aug 10 2013
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Conversations with My Next Girlfriend

Preface

Since the breakup of my fifteen-year relationship, five-and-a-half years ago, I remain living in the past to some degree. I’m aware that as long as my past inhabits my present, I’m essentially still in a relationship, even if it’s predominately virtual and one-sided.  I have conversations in my head — the closure and amends we never had a chance to process together; I work out the “hers, mine and ours” unfinished business of the breakup in scenarios in my dreams, I continue to share stories with friends that begin, “When I was with my ex…” and I make promises to myself to never repeat the same mistakes, or expect people to be anything but who they are, not what I wished they’d be, and yes, I include myself in that awareness. This is the legacy of being the person who was left. It takes time. The good news is we are working on redefining our relationship as friends and chosen family. Continue reading →

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May 25 2013
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A Moving Story II

Everything is Up in the Air

It’s been two weeks since I’ve posted on my blog. It’s making me anxious, one more ticking clock, the others I’m unable to locate since my home is in chaos as I prepare for my move next weekend. My life is like the children’s game, or more precisely the prank, 52 Card Pickup. Everything is up in the air, in disarray, including the organization of my mind, a virtual house of cards, as I teeter on the brink of collapsing emotionally and physically. I’m reminded how much I depend upon my daily compulsive behaviors to keep me anchored and how they prevent me from metaphorically floating or wandering away. Continue reading →

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