Ok is a foreign state of being. There is only doing what I need to do to get through the next minute, hour, day. I get by like this and the days have turned into weeks and months. Moments of happiness are mixed with every other emotion. Each breath, each dawn a victory or a stalemate.
Expect that you won't know what to do from one moment to the next. Expect that people are going to say stupid things like comparing losing your father to join a club. Expect that you won't be able to sleep or you will over sleep. Expect people to treat you different. Or like nothing at …
When did you first meet grief? Were you a child or adult? Or somewhere in between? My family introduce me to grief in dull funeral home in Ohio, somewhere near Columbus. It didn't touch me. There was no way for it through the stoic ritual containing it. Everyone was appropriately sad but not too sad. No room for a wondering mind to question because there was no one talking about it. We went to the wake, then the funeral and finally a family reunion. So in a matter of 24 hours, I was introduced to grief and then pushed outside to play with distance cousins.
When I was a child, I sat on the edge of a single bed and listened as my father told me how he was going on a business trip. He never came back. He was, in fact, moving out. The nuclear family I had been born into died that day. The funeral was the day …
This morning, I woke up in a strange room in a city that neighbors the one I grew up in. As my traveling companion slept fitfully in his bed, I moved through the room making coffee, showering, reading and doing my morning exercises. The nervousness and tears that had marked my first day of travel …
A good man died today, or maybe it was yesterday. News of his passing just reached me today A good man died And in his honor I'm drinking some whiskey Some sweet Jack that he would have liked My heart weeps and my world quakes But its foundations still hold firm I may weep and …
They thought your trips and stumbles were the sign, the end was near, and whispered as you walked that the angel of Death had given you a fright. No one saw how the angels held your arm and let you stand, Walking straight and true with dignity and grace. Or how they whisper that everyone …
Lucinda Rose 