Grief

Articulated

My son is writing for his campus newspaper. Proud mom moment! He had two articles published in this first paper. I was expecting a light-hearted pop culture piece. I was delighted to read such a well-articulated and thoughtful piece.

I’ve often lamented the loss of a more innocent, kind, and carefree world as my kids came of age during Covid lockdowns, active shooter drills, and a president who spews and encourages hatred and division, cultivating and amplifying white supremacy, dehumanizing the marginalized, and normalizing corruption. It was a profound moment, reading how my adult son perceived this shift, looking back to when he was 10 years old and articulating his view of how the world has changed; what we’ve lost. I had difficulty finishing the article through tears. They were tears of sadness for the fucked up world my kids have inherited, but also immense pride at this wisdom and deeper reflection from my grown son.

Thoughts inspired by Andrea Gibson

Brevity is a big part of what makes this life beautiful.
Life stops being as difficult when you expect it to be difficult.
Shame is double-suffering.

Andrea Gibson’s poetry is lightning. I’m sad they have passed.

If your wounds are still open, trust they are doors to an answer, and walk through. - Andrea Gibson 8/13/75-7/14/25

Marriage as I Experienced it

I just saw a picture of this sculpture by Beth Cavener and it hit.

This is marriage for the Evangelical woman, for the Fundamentalist woman, for those who buy into complementarian ideals.

This was marriage for me. I imagine it’s marriage for many women.

I photographed a wedding a while back. The bride and groom’s interactions reminded me of my wedding 20 years before. I tried to describe this to my assistant as we drove home. The way he leaned away when she tried to kiss him on their wedding day. The absolute poison of trying to meet the expectations of the parents, the patriarchy, the church, the “Bible clearly states” folks…

So much effort went into that laced veil of purity. It was the death of her.

There’s no other cure for grief than grief itself. And it asks us to feel it fully, to feel the complete absence.

David Whyte

Fresh Wound

We walked through the grass finding our way to the spot
Where the grass rectangle lay freshly cut like a wound that hasn’t yet scarred.
I stood there on top of the earth, my dad’s flesh rotting six feet below.
What a strange thing. I didn’t like it.
We propped the dying poinsettias back up near where I suppose his headstone will soon go.
The deer had their way with the flowers and the grass above dad’s buried coffin.
He has returned to the earth, though it’s blocked by that hideous box
And nature is doing its thing now.
As above, so below.
I couldn’t stay long in that place, where the sky touches the lawn.
It was gloomy and cold in all the ways it can be.
Pelican Point shoreline Instead we went to see the waves crash, and the surfers live.
We ate at Barbara’s Fishtrap, then I touched the water and the sand.
I stood at the shore, feeling it.
I feel more there. I feel better there.

Letting Go

Grieving is the process of letting go of attachment. When it’s done, all that’s left is love.

-Lynne Twist

So, all of life carries a bit of grieving as we let go, as things change.