Jewel Miller noted in her last comment that she sees that life is going on for me. It was nice to hear that, almost like it gave me permission to return to normal life.
After a tragedy such as this accident, or 9-11, I feel like time should somehow stop, like it’s almost irreverent to the dead and grieving to think about something other than them. Paul shouldn’t discuss seed tests on the phone. I shouldn’t be dusting, vacuuming, or getting chicken out of the freezer for supper.
But Jewel is right. Children get hungry, the dishes accumulate, the phone rings, a truck comes to the warehouse with a load of rice bran, Steven needs his homework slip signed.
I remember reading of someone—I can’t remember who he was except that he had suffered great loss, perhaps a Holocaust survivor—who was asked in an interview to say something about life. And he said, "It goes on."
As I write, Steven’s birthday party (the first one of his life!) is winding down and he and his friends are playing in his bedroom. This is my tribute to Carolyn tonight: doing what she would if she could--serve the pizza, wipe up the muddy tracks, pour the drinks, clean up the kitchen, celebrate the day.
Quote of the Day:
"I normally don’t play solitaire, but all of a sudden the game has an appeal."
--Matt, who has an essay due soon and suddenly sympathizes with his mom and her writing-avoidance techniques when she has a deadline
I don't know why I didn't find your site a long time ago. I enjoy it so much! Thanks for your kind comments. Just another comment to today's post, I know exactly what you mean about almost feeling guilty about getting back to normal. We lost a former neighbor boy this week in a traffic accident. He'd have been 18 in only three weeks. We plan to bury him today and I've felt like I'm in a sort of vacumn all week, scarcely able to go on with normal life. But no matter if life is normal or not, underneath it all are the "Everlasting Arms." Therein lies our strength and purpose in suffering.
ReplyDelete(If you care to read more about him you can at my xanga site: www.xanga.com/innacanoe )
I have been having some of the same feelings as you have, Dorcas, since I heard of the tragic accident. The first couple of days I felt numb, and like I shouldn't go about my normal household tasks, but be in mourning out of respect to Jeff & Carolyn. Then Friday evening I felt almost a little guilty having a good time with our family as we went out to eat in celebration of our oldest son's birthday. I'm sure I'm not the only mother that has found herself giving fewer scoldings and more hugs and kisses, and postponing various tasks in order to play with or read to her children this week. How sad that sometimes it takes a tragedy to cause us to realize anew the preciousness of our dear children.
ReplyDeleteThanks for expressing the feelings of many of us so succinctly.
Beverly Gingerich