I don't think that it is that other people have heavier burdens and carry on just fine... I believe they are wrestling just as much on the inside as you are. If they're not, then something is probably not right about them. Its all in our own perception of the situation. *hugs*
We are comsumed by our own emptiness.edwarddainJune 27 2006, 14:54:08 UTC
As the hollow winds fill the crevices of our souls, we seek out space in the exterior world - assuming of course that we don't drown ourselves in an orgiastic frenzy to fill the silence with the noise of life.
Some of us need more space, some less. Some of us are comforted by stillness and others by frenzy. Some find silence comforting, others find it maddening. Don't compare yourself to others, it's what comforts you that matters the most.
And there are always those odd little empty spaces within us that they expand to fill us without warning when some other void spawns unexpectedly. We find love and companionship where we can to fill those spaces.
I know *exactly* how you feel. My grandmother passed away last summer and because of finances, I wasn't able to go to her funeral in Michigan. (my entire family but me is in MI) About a month ago, my father sold her house... I never got to see it that one last time and make peace with her being gone.
MY goodbye and my greif are all bundled up inside me and I know that when I see her house without the depression-blue bottles and baskets in the window, with someone else's car in the driveway instead of her ancient rabbit... then it will all hit me.
As a kid we lived with her in that house she'd lived in since she got married on and off when my dad wasn't working. WHen she died she'd been in that house for 50 years..And as she got older, she developed a sense of humor that was just amazing. I miss her even now. My grandfather died when I was about 6 and I'll be 30 in Nov. She never took of her wedding rings, his clothes stayed in the closet and his chair never left it's spot, althout in time it bacame hers.
Man, that's really touching and sad that she remembered and left room for him for all that time. She sounds like a remarkable lady. I'm sorry you didn't get to properly say goodbye.
**grins** I would have done the same for someone like my Grandfather. I knew him a short time, but even in that time I loved him like crazy. He's still one of my favorite people ever. They met because gramma knew Grampa's sister in Va and went to visit. Grampa was in the Navy, Gramma was in the Marines. They teased each other unmercifully at first, then when Gramma went back home they wrote each other for 6 years or so before meeting again. They got married and they were together for about 35 years before he died of a massive heart attack.
One day I'll get a copy of those letters from my Aunt, and with my family's permission, put them into a book and see if I can't get it published.
(((hugs))) You're not weak. You're human. This much loss would be hard on anyone. As awfully as mourning hurts, grief is the price of caring. If we didn't mourn the passing of good people, we'd be worth less as people. It should hurt. Granted, that sounds a hell of a lot less comforting than I meant. But for me at least, it still sounds true. It should hurt. The pain doesn't mean you are weak. It means you're worth a damn.
>>What - are we leading parallel lives or something?
Augh! I know! It's not funny, except that it sort of is. I wish it wasn't happening to either of us.
"Unbalanced" is a good word for it. I feel like my life's been tipped over, and instead of being allowed to swing back, it just keeps tipping. Scary stuff.
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*hugs*
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Some of us need more space, some less. Some of us are comforted by stillness and others by frenzy. Some find silence comforting, others find it maddening. Don't compare yourself to others, it's what comforts you that matters the most.
And there are always those odd little empty spaces within us that they expand to fill us without warning when some other void spawns unexpectedly. We find love and companionship where we can to fill those spaces.
Take care hon.
Reply
MY goodbye and my greif are all bundled up inside me and I know that when I see her house without the depression-blue bottles and baskets in the window, with someone else's car in the driveway instead of her ancient rabbit... then it will all hit me.
As a kid we lived with her in that house she'd lived in since she got married on and off when my dad wasn't working. WHen she died she'd been in that house for 50 years..And as she got older, she developed a sense of humor that was just amazing. I miss her even now. My grandfather died when I was about 6 and I'll be 30 in Nov. She never took of her wedding rings, his clothes stayed in the closet and his chair never left it's spot, althout in time it bacame hers.
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*hugs*
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One day I'll get a copy of those letters from my Aunt, and with my family's permission, put them into a book and see if I can't get it published.
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I bet you could, too. That is a cool, cool story! *grin*
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*smooshes*
Thanks.
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Augh! I know! It's not funny, except that it sort of is. I wish it wasn't happening to either of us.
"Unbalanced" is a good word for it. I feel like my life's been tipped over, and instead of being allowed to swing back, it just keeps tipping. Scary stuff.
*hugs*
Thanks for being around.
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