First Post for Death, Dying and Grief

February 13, 2008 at 4:03 am Leave a comment

February 12, 2008

            I was at the Farmer’s Market this afternoon, my usual Tuesday evening haunt which has the triple lure of being outside, meeting people, and buying produce. I bumped into a friend who reads this “blog,” (I always feel compelled to put that word into quotes. There’s just something annoying about that word that I refuse to adopt as normal vocabulary) and who, over the past few years, had been wondering about Russ and didn’t know that he had died. I wrote a fair number of emails during the course of Russ’ illness with cancer (and this friend somehow missed the list of all that), some after he died, and then in time, I started this blog, and I guess I haven’t been writing about cancer, dying, death or grief really at all. To analyze myself, I might be protecting any of you from the deep and sad stuff, maybe I’m protecting my own vulnerability, or maybe I was just plain tired of writing so much about it all for so long. So, periodically, I’ll post some of the things I wrote under the heading of, oh geeze…a label? I guess I’ll call it death dying and grief, and maybe include some excerpts from my journals that I kept after he died. I read a lot of books on grief then—ha, ha, 47 to be exact. It’s one of those odd stories that came out of that time. A few months after Russ died, a lady from Hospice called to offer me support in some way, and I simply said I wanted the books. I read them all; children’s books, poetry, scientific, religious, behavioral, psychology, and for some reason, I kept a list of the titles in the backs of my journals. I wrote several journals, and they are all precious to me, a deep and tender time of my turning inside out and inside and out again and again over that time. My friend asked me hesitantly if it was okay to talk about Russ right there in the middle of the market, with the guy selling jade looking on, the buzz of people going by. We had actually started our conversation about it when he asked me, “Do you have any stories brewing around inside of you?”


Entry filed under: death, dying and grief.

Tomatoes are from Greece November 16, 2005 (On Hope)

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