E-hugs don't do much, but know that you're in my thoughts.
There's a John Updike poem that resonates with me regarding grief, and it might for you as well. Feel free to ignore it.
And another regrettable thing about death
is the ceasing of your own brand of magic,
which took a whole life to develop and market —
the quips, the witticisms, the slant
adjusted to a few, those loved ones nearest
the lip of the stage, their soft faces blanched
in the footlight glow, their laughter close to tears,
their warm pooled breath in and out with your heartbeat,
their response and your performance twinned.
The jokes over the phone. The memories packed
in the rapid-access file. The whole act.
Who will do it again? That’s it: no one;
imitators and descendants aren’t the same.
I thought it might be. I'm glad if it can help you in any way.
I suspect your grandmother had a very potent brand of magic, and that her words would definitely have a slant adjusted to those who knew and loved her.
Yeah, I spent last night with a friend whose mother died when she was 18. It never totally goes away, but time and perspective help, especially when our loved ones were suffering as much as my grandmother was.
I just keep reminding myself that she went in her sleep, which is a mercy. That she won't have to have her other leg amputated, which is a mercy. That she knew that I loved her more than anything on this earth when she died.
words fail to truly offer solace in a time like this.
know that understanding and support is out there for you.
be strong in whatever way you see fit. cry, scream, fall down. do it if that's what needs to be done.
let it pass through you.
yes, it hurts.
ask yourself, "what would she say to me right now?" and her guidance will be there.
deep wounds heal in their own time, they may leave a scar, but they do heal.
Oh, honey, so much love to you. I didn't know what to say until I was writing it down on a bunch of napkins. I knew it was God, because I didn't have anything in me. It will come to you. *love*
At some point, a bottle of wine and I need to work it out. Perhaps later tonight.
You're doing this just fine, lady. And everything I'd say, you already know, so I'll just say: you're doing fine.
There's never really an 'end', and there's never a right or a wrong way of handling this..
But you already know that. The floor keeps falling and while we hope it hits something, it doesn't. No one can really ease this, of course, but you aren't alone.
Last week we went and buried my partner's father.. it's not the same thing as what you feel, yet the grief is the same. there's no reason.. they are at peace and we suffer.
If you need another place to crash, feel free to come here. We have a kitten and a lot of tea.http://www.katsandogz.com/ondeath.html
"Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.
And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.
And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance."
I may not comment often here, but I care about you, and I admire your strength and wisdom. Oh, sweetie. This part of grief is really rough, and I don't know what to say other than I'm thinking of you.
Wishing you everything you need to grieve as you need to.
It sounds like things are incredibly hard right now and I'm so glad that friends are there for you. Hang in there, I'm thinking of you.
I'm so sorry for your loss sweetheart. Sending love and light your way. It is a profoundly lonely experience, but there are lots of people around you loving on you really hard.
i'm here to listen to you. and to squish you.
you're in my thoughts.
Nothin but love to you and your family. You are, as always, in my prayers