Just reread your comments/emails…
from this last year, and I am overwhelmed. If I went back further, I surely wouldn’t be able to sit here and type this.
What got me started on this adventure into my email’s inbox? I was looking for an address – no, not an email address, but a postal address so I could send an invitation to someone for Lea’s art exhibition, beginning tomorrow in Malibu, CA. (I found the address, in an email from about 6 months ago – why don’t I put things in easy-to-find places?)
Yes, I’m late with the invitations. I got a little behind. Most of the e-vites went out already, but the hardcopies waited until today when I had time in my schedule (sorry, Lea). Many of the details of shipping paintings from her studio in Washington, and others from down here in Northern California, were made at the last minute. The paintings arrived at the gallery yesterday and were installed today. The show runs from tomorrow through March 23rd (so if you don’t get your invitation until Saturday, you’ll still have time to see her newest work!). If you’re going to be in the Los Angeles area, you should drop by: Canvas Gallery, 23410 Civic Center Way, Malibu, CA 90265. We’ll be there this Sunday, February 15, from 2:00 to 5:00 pm for the Meet the Artist gathering. Bring the family – the gallery is in the Malibu Country Mart, and there’s a playground, food, boutiques, and oh, Lea’s art.
Back to overwhelmed…I was, still am. I didn’t look to see how many emails and comments you’ve sent me since February 10, 2008, but it was a lot. So many – from so many. Besides the comments here at mysteryoriley, quite a few of us have carried on an email correspondence. I ran across two that I had never opened, both from people who’d recently lost family members. I replied, remembering the earlier days of grief. Most of the time, this is still the early days. I think the longer I live, the more every day before the one I’m living, will be the early days.
I walked through my kitchen this evening before spending these last few hours here at the computer, and had one of those it didn’t really happen, did it? moments. I came into the bedroom and looked at family photos on my dresser, and yes, it happened. Owen will never be older than 20 in our photos. Sometimes I look at my hands and think that while they get older, more wrinkled, more arthritic, Owen will always be 20 years and 50 weeks young. It grabs me right in the middle of my chest, hurls me against an invisible, but solid wall when I think about it. I’m sure it always will.
I talked with Carla this afternoon. We’re hoping to catch up with each other this weekend. She sounds good, busy. After I hung up, I said out loud, “She’s doin’ good, Bubba.” So funny, how I feel like I’m supposed to keep Owen up to date on everyone, everything. I can’t explain it, it’s just the way it is. I actually think it keeps me more sane than if I had to keep my thoughts locked away.
Thank you, thank you, thank you – ALL, for being here with me since August of 2007 when I started writing here. Your comments and emails have meant more to me than you can know. I am so very lucky.
Song for the night: That’s What Friends Are For, Dionne Warwick, Stevie Wonder, Gladys Knight, Elton John
Linda-
Thank you also, for the comments you leave on my page, I am grateful for them and your blog.
exoh
Cailie.
Girl; we are all spiritual beings here on this ‘Human’ stage together. The act you are working on just ao happens to be as dramatic as those in one of Shakespeare’s plays. Never fear that your fellow actors will come to aide, comfort, & support your efforts. Sometimes it’s a solo scene; but the rest of the cast is still there off-stage, helping you through the lines & singing with you on the arias. Love & family on both sides of the veil are always around you when you need them. You have but to ask for friends to share the tears and laughter; and in the next scene – they show up. Create; and so mote it be! Love to you and yours, Talula.
lINDA, NO THANK YOU FOR SHARING YOUR JOURNEY WITH ME. YOU HAVE HELPED ME IN SO MANY WAYS , ON SO MANY DAYS. IM ALWAYS BY YOUR SIDE , I SO MISS WHEN YOU DONT BLOG ! GOD I MISS MY BOY, BUT YOU DO PUT SOME LIGHT IN THIS JOURNEY. HUGS, SANDY SHANES MOM
What can I say that hasn’t already been said. You are inspirational, some days you are the difference between a sane and insane day. When I read your posts about talking out loud to Owen it makes me realize that I’m not crazy……or if I am I’m not alone. This sight has become a sanctuary.
Hugs, Valerie
Things have a way of coming full circle, dear Linda. So thank you for BEing here.
Someday I may tell you why I am here.
Strange, isn’t it, how we can have those moments when we can’t believe for a split second that its true….
Reminds me of a poem by William Wordsworth, who lost his young child. The poem is called “Surprised by Joy.” In it, he finds himself turning to share something with his child, forgetting she is dead. He is torn by guilt at the thought of not remembering every instant of the fact of his loss. But the thing is that we all who grieve know what it is like to think of picking up the phone and calling our deceased loved one or sharing a story with them when they get home…. It is one of the hardest things, for me, at least, when I think, hey I need to share this with her, and then once again I recall she’s dead….
How do you even explain to someone the total grieve of losing a child. My son Dwayne was killed on Dec 12, 2008 when his car was hit by two recently paroled men who had stolen a car and where running from the police. The men are still walking around free, while we await DNA evidence. My other son, his girlfriend and my son Dwayne’s wife where also in the car at the time of the accident. The brothers had spent the day together and then decided to go out to dinner with their wife/girlfriend. My husband and I kept our granddaughter (Dwayne’s daughter) so that they could have an adult evening out. I will never forget the call to come to the hospital right away nor will I forget the moment they told me my son was dead. Some days when I wake up I decide that I am going to pretend it didn’t happen and that he is just on a business trip other days the reality will not allow me to pretend. The reality of telling his 3 year old daughter that her daddy is dead.
I hope you are doing okay these last three weeks.
I still have those moments when I think, this couldn’t have really happened.
I still think of you often, almost every day and wonder if you will get some answers.