Loved the picture. It is to be treasured. A ride on the motorcycle is a good way to redirect ones focus, a bee sting even more so. It seems you are doing your best, Mark and I'm sure Emily is proud of you. Peace, brother. Keep on going.
Oh goodness, I love seeing that photo of you and your Emily. You were courageous to sit there again, and I'm glad it wasn't too awful. Thank you for continuing to take us on a ride-along on your grief journey, Mark. Continuing to send you peace ....
The only reason I mentioned the bee sting was to draw attention to the parallels between repeated exposures to places I'd been to with Emily and periodically getting stung by bees while riding my motorcycle. With both, I am acquiring immunity - each becoming less of a "thing." All told, I had a wonderful motorcycle ride!
As a fellow writer, I suspect that on occasion, you've included some extraneous somewhat connected thought, that in retrospect you've realized was more confusing than helpful. As a relatively new spinner of words, I'm on the steep part of the learning curve.
I do appreciate your kind thoughts - Have a great weekend!
Oh, no, Mark. The “sting” was poignant in many senses of the word. And I meant that I wish you no or at least fewer stings in the future. And many more wonderful motorcycle rides! May memories of places and events bring up only peaceful thoughts and feelings.
I suspect you've got that right. Jimmy Buffet wrote in his song - " Breathe in, Breathe out, Move on" - IF A HURRICANE DOESN'T LEAVE YOU DEAD, IT WILL MAKE YOU STRONG - Like so many things, rough times are just opportunities to grow
Was it an insect or a thorn ? I had lunch yesterday with a FB friend who lost her husband to a fast cancer 2 years ago. She belonged to the same community I met Emily through. I was surprised it had already been 2 years since her loss. She is still struggling with it at times as well.
According to AI, "It's only when they sting mammals, with their thick skin, that the barbs become wedged. In trying to get free, the bee rips away part of its abdomen and internal organs. It's this that causes it to die a few minutes later –" That photo was of a stinger that I got walking through grass with sandals on last summer. It was not the one in my neck which I got while driving yesterday. The stinger was gone by the time I finished the ride a half hour later.
Unfortunately, grief is a gift that keeps on "giving" but hopefully less and less from month to month and year to year. A "faster cancer" is probably easier for the patient but not necessarily for those left behind.
I deeply empathize with your loss of Emily, Mark. Although you and I have never met, we are members of the same unfortunate club.
Deborah misremembered-- it was I who had cancer 2 years ago, not my husband-- I was diagnosed less than 2 weeks after his death (and as far as anyone knows at this point, cured by surgery a month after that). What happened to him was quite different: He was fine one moment and violently ill with pancreatitis the next. Over the next 10 days his kidneys and then other organs shut down. Everything about it was a total shock. The cause was never found. He was unconscious so we were not even able to say goodbye.
I've often considered whether it would be kinder to have a long illness and time to plan and prepare, or to go quite suddenly. Either way, it utterly sucks for those left behind.
Good morning, Elene - I'm so sorry for your loss which in many ways was probably worse for you than mine is for me BUT there are so many variables involved. My last essay "Enlightened by Loss" was largely about comparing one person's loss with another. It on so many levels doesn't matter because you are hurting deeply and I hope you're getting the support that you need.
To lose someone virtually overnight eliminates any dialogue about what you or your husband were going through, not to mention all those other people who loved him. However, assuming you were at his bedside much of those last ten days, I fully believe he heard each and every loving word directed his way.
A poignant memory, the feeling you are making headway with your grief and then ... the sting that brings back reality. (sigh) You are on the road to acceptance, in any case. I wish you patience, Mark, dear.
Thanks Sharon - I really am doing significantly better but as you well know there are periodic setbacks, some more predictable than others. I still overall had a great motorcycle ride on a beautiful day.
Ah, well, yes, set backs. We just have to lie back in a comfy place and say, " Oh, it's you again, welcome back, grief. Come in and stay a little while...remind me of how much I loved and was loved in return."
I wonder if the waitress will tell the story through lens of “It was such a beautiful gift to know that I took a photo of a man and his wife as they shared their last meal out together.”
I think the gift of knowing she helped capture that moment, and that she’s given you a memory you can glance at whenever you want, must be lovely.
I’m sorry for the weight of Emily’s absence in your life and on your heart.
Loved the picture. It is to be treasured. A ride on the motorcycle is a good way to redirect ones focus, a bee sting even more so. It seems you are doing your best, Mark and I'm sure Emily is proud of you. Peace, brother. Keep on going.
Thanks Jim and Peace to you as well.
Oh goodness, I love seeing that photo of you and your Emily. You were courageous to sit there again, and I'm glad it wasn't too awful. Thank you for continuing to take us on a ride-along on your grief journey, Mark. Continuing to send you peace ....
Thanks, and you're welcome, Jeanne - it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be until I started to share with the waitress
Wishing you more peaceful days, Mark, with no bee stings.
Thank you, Louise,
The only reason I mentioned the bee sting was to draw attention to the parallels between repeated exposures to places I'd been to with Emily and periodically getting stung by bees while riding my motorcycle. With both, I am acquiring immunity - each becoming less of a "thing." All told, I had a wonderful motorcycle ride!
As a fellow writer, I suspect that on occasion, you've included some extraneous somewhat connected thought, that in retrospect you've realized was more confusing than helpful. As a relatively new spinner of words, I'm on the steep part of the learning curve.
I do appreciate your kind thoughts - Have a great weekend!
Oh, no, Mark. The “sting” was poignant in many senses of the word. And I meant that I wish you no or at least fewer stings in the future. And many more wonderful motorcycle rides! May memories of places and events bring up only peaceful thoughts and feelings.
Thanks Louise, fewer stings, regardless of the type, would be good!
It’s a journey, isn’t it Mark? And one that can’t be avoided, so we carry on while gradually gaining strength and courage, often without realizing it.
I suspect you've got that right. Jimmy Buffet wrote in his song - " Breathe in, Breathe out, Move on" - IF A HURRICANE DOESN'T LEAVE YOU DEAD, IT WILL MAKE YOU STRONG - Like so many things, rough times are just opportunities to grow
Was it an insect or a thorn ? I had lunch yesterday with a FB friend who lost her husband to a fast cancer 2 years ago. She belonged to the same community I met Emily through. I was surprised it had already been 2 years since her loss. She is still struggling with it at times as well.
According to AI, "It's only when they sting mammals, with their thick skin, that the barbs become wedged. In trying to get free, the bee rips away part of its abdomen and internal organs. It's this that causes it to die a few minutes later –" That photo was of a stinger that I got walking through grass with sandals on last summer. It was not the one in my neck which I got while driving yesterday. The stinger was gone by the time I finished the ride a half hour later.
Unfortunately, grief is a gift that keeps on "giving" but hopefully less and less from month to month and year to year. A "faster cancer" is probably easier for the patient but not necessarily for those left behind.
I deeply empathize with your loss of Emily, Mark. Although you and I have never met, we are members of the same unfortunate club.
Deborah misremembered-- it was I who had cancer 2 years ago, not my husband-- I was diagnosed less than 2 weeks after his death (and as far as anyone knows at this point, cured by surgery a month after that). What happened to him was quite different: He was fine one moment and violently ill with pancreatitis the next. Over the next 10 days his kidneys and then other organs shut down. Everything about it was a total shock. The cause was never found. He was unconscious so we were not even able to say goodbye.
I've often considered whether it would be kinder to have a long illness and time to plan and prepare, or to go quite suddenly. Either way, it utterly sucks for those left behind.
Good morning, Elene - I'm so sorry for your loss which in many ways was probably worse for you than mine is for me BUT there are so many variables involved. My last essay "Enlightened by Loss" was largely about comparing one person's loss with another. It on so many levels doesn't matter because you are hurting deeply and I hope you're getting the support that you need.
To lose someone virtually overnight eliminates any dialogue about what you or your husband were going through, not to mention all those other people who loved him. However, assuming you were at his bedside much of those last ten days, I fully believe he heard each and every loving word directed his way.
I do wish you peace, Mark
Thank you, Mark. My understanding is that he did hear every word and knew that I was holding his hand.
I hope you are getting the support you need too! Shock carries us through the early months, to some extent. Sending you care across the miles.
I've been blessed with unbelievable amounts of support and kindnesses - case in point.
Thanks for the answer. Grief is not easy for anyone I believe.
A poignant memory, the feeling you are making headway with your grief and then ... the sting that brings back reality. (sigh) You are on the road to acceptance, in any case. I wish you patience, Mark, dear.
Thanks Sharon - I really am doing significantly better but as you well know there are periodic setbacks, some more predictable than others. I still overall had a great motorcycle ride on a beautiful day.
Ah, well, yes, set backs. We just have to lie back in a comfy place and say, " Oh, it's you again, welcome back, grief. Come in and stay a little while...remind me of how much I loved and was loved in return."
Nice to see both your faces. I love reading your posts. I feel like we are penpals!
Thanks Debbie, it's great to have you here - adding another unique perspective.
I wonder if the waitress will tell the story through lens of “It was such a beautiful gift to know that I took a photo of a man and his wife as they shared their last meal out together.”
I think the gift of knowing she helped capture that moment, and that she’s given you a memory you can glance at whenever you want, must be lovely.
I’m sorry for the weight of Emily’s absence in your life and on your heart.
May love always sustain you.
That’s a very good way to look at it - Thank you Louise