Got the copied pictures cropped and in a collage ready for the memorial celebration tomorrow. Need to transfer some of his ashes to a smaller container for the after celebration dusting in Gramercy park. At the foot of Edwin Booth's statue. Do NOT want to start a day with that task ahead of me. The basket full of his CDs is ready to go (asking friends to take some: I have taken many, but so many are left). The prayer bowl was polished weeks ago it seems. The hats need brushing, but that's all. Friends are coming early to help carry things over to the theatre. His friend, Ofrit, has composed some music for him, and is sending it over (from Israel) to play at the celebration. Everything feels done, or nearly, and right on track.
And it's all making me feel desolate. As if from now on, it'll be everybody's job to get back to life, to forget and get on with it.
I'm not even close to wanting to get on with it. . . .
3 comments:
puddle, it hurts me to see you in such pain and know there is no way I can help. I remember reading a long time ago that the hardest part of mourning is having other people think you "should just get over it", or that your sorrow should end after a certain period of time. I know that's not the case and that the pain of loss isn't something that turns off like a water faucet.
But on one count I can reassure you. Edwin will not be forgotten. I remember the afternoon I spent with you, Edwin, Ofrit and, later, Agatha. I remember the music (which I complimented Edwin on), the laughter, the conversation, the view onto the courtyard. And, in the cruelest irony, Edwin's very real concern over Ofrit's return to Israel when Ofrit now sends music for his Memorial. I have that memory, and it's part of me for life.
I'm sorry I can't do anything to ease your pain, but I recognize it and I'm sorry for your suffering. It's a hard thing that we humans must suffer so at the loss of a loved one, and yet how sad it would be to slip from the world unnoticed.
Spreading wings and wishing you light and strength.
Susan D.
Susan, you can and have. Now and before. You are part of my healing, and I love you for that. xox
puddle, I echo Susan's well-said words because I'm not good at putting them down in writing.
I pray for you through my tears. I love you dear friend. You are one ♥special lady♥.
~xoxo~
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