In and out of tears
Mar. 26th, 2008 10:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deborahjrossJust read ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
janni's beautiful poem about Katherine Lawrence. Kath and I were part of the same writers group in LA, and had many mutual friends, so the pain and anger of the poem evoked personal echoes as well.
Driving to piano lesson earlier in the month, stereo played the song Judy Collins wrote about her own father, I burst into tears. Dave's dad had just died, but I wept as much for my own father. He died of a stroke in 1974, and I still miss him so much it aches. I made sure I was safe and just went with the grief. With the years, the decades, we learn to balance and navigate and remember that it ebbs and flows, but it never goes away.
Yesterday, rearranging filing cabinet, found a file of old family letters. There was this one from my mother: Dearest Deborah,
Best wishes for a lovely birthday. May you be surrounded by love and joy all day and all days!... Thank you for being so warm and giving and supporting always -- it gives me a wonderful secure feeling and is a source of strength for me. I love you.
I didn't get to say goodbye to her, as I did to my father in the last day he was conscious. But I hold in my hands a reminder that she knew how much I loved her, and I know now and always how much she loved me.
janni's beautiful poem about Katherine Lawrence. Kath and I were part of the same writers group in LA, and had many mutual friends, so the pain and anger of the poem evoked personal echoes as well.Driving to piano lesson earlier in the month, stereo played the song Judy Collins wrote about her own father, I burst into tears. Dave's dad had just died, but I wept as much for my own father. He died of a stroke in 1974, and I still miss him so much it aches. I made sure I was safe and just went with the grief. With the years, the decades, we learn to balance and navigate and remember that it ebbs and flows, but it never goes away.
Yesterday, rearranging filing cabinet, found a file of old family letters. There was this one from my mother: Dearest Deborah,
Best wishes for a lovely birthday. May you be surrounded by love and joy all day and all days!... Thank you for being so warm and giving and supporting always -- it gives me a wonderful secure feeling and is a source of strength for me. I love you.
I didn't get to say goodbye to her, as I did to my father in the last day he was conscious. But I hold in my hands a reminder that she knew how much I loved her, and I know now and always how much she loved me.
