I was torn about not allowing your comments on each post on this blog. I decided to have this page for your general comments
or experiences with grief. Or just comment on anything you've read here too.
And if you want to share a story or memory about your own mother, I've created the "Share" page. Write a mini memoir there, a memory, anything you think will be cathartic or helpful.
6 comments:
Dear Katherine,
Something so magnificent is going to happen indeed! I love your art, your farm, your thoughts. YOu inspire. Your mother inspires you. I'm comforted and not feeling so weird about grieving my pet sheep.
Your words are profound and your dreams magical. So glad I found this.
xx
Katherine,
I have just sat here, this June morning, on my sunny front porch, reading every entry in the blog... You said something- several times (or maybe it was only once, but I'm hearing/seeing it echo): the sadness is a hole inside us... we all carry a sack of sadness and you never know what another person may be carrying. That just resonates with me. It is nearly a whole decade since my father passed and that hole has never and will never close... I "put things into it": memories of how my sons are becoming men; of sharing my fathers stories with them, my art and it's continuing journey. These are the things I would have shared with him in life... I put them in that hole because I believe he will see/feel them. The same is true with my mother... it is nearly five years since she passed... another hole, another sack to carry. But as artists and writers we are specially gifted in a way; the sadness is there but through art and life and writing and creating it changes... we change. Things gain more layers, more depth... I have always been someone who is happiest living a fairly simple life... all I need and want is my family and friends around me and to share life with them. Such a gift... now I feel that I am a conduit, sharing life with those who have passed away & can't be with me physically. I keep them in my heart & thoughts... I think you are doing the same with your art, your life and this beautiful blog. Thank you for sharing. <3
Dear Katherine,
I too am fatherless and motherless. My father died when I was eleven years old. After my father died it was my mom and I and we were close. She passed away four years ago at the age of 85. She died quickly and peacefully. I miss her everyday. I know exactly what you mean when you talk about the hole inside you. I am still working through my grief. Thank you for sharing and inviting others to join you on your journey through grief.
Therese
Milady - the loss of any creature, for whatever reason, is a space to be reckoned with. My heart is with you and Blossum.
Kelly - I like that, that we put things in the empty sack - when we are ready and able. I also agree that it is the living, the present, that beings meaning back into out life [or never leaves] after loss. When my father died, on my way home in the plane, the most overwhelming feeling I had was "I'm alive!". I've always lived fully, but it was magnified. It feels different in a way right now, but I too have so much living in and around me- that is what we must all grab onto in these times, yes?
Therese, When my father died, someone wrote me a lovely note, saying they had thought of their father every day since he died 50 years earlier. At first I found this so upsetting and depressing, now I know it is how he lives in me. But, I'm sorry for you loss too - there are just rough moments, but many good ones - I hope for you too.
Milady - the loss of any creature, for whatever reason, is a space to be reckoned with. My heart is with you and Blossum.
Kelly - I like that, that we put things in the empty sack - when we are ready and able. I also agree that it is the living, the present, that beings meaning back into out life [or never leaves] after loss. When my father died, on my way home in the plane, the most overwhelming feeling I had was "I'm alive!". I've always lived fully, but it was magnified. It feels different in a way right now, but I too have so much living in and around me- that is what we must all grab onto in these times, yes?
Therese, When my father died, someone wrote me a lovely note, saying they had thought of their father every day since he died 50 years earlier. At first I found this so upsetting and depressing, now I know it is how he lives in me. But, I'm sorry for you loss too - there are just rough moments, but many good ones - I hope for you too.
Empty Houses...i swear i visit my beloved grandmother's house regularly. I can smell the smells, feel the wood under my feet, hear the basement door shut. It is occupied by someone else now, and I actually have to hide from him. It's almost as if I'm a ghost in my dreams. But I always return because it gives me comfort to be in her house.
xo
ps i will notify you when I get to that post about you...you deserve much more time and attention than i can give at the moment!
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