Comments on: Time

By: Mamag

Mamag — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 23:48:14 +0000

I spent the last week trying to understand and mourn the loss of a dear friend’s daughter.

And five years after my mother’s unexpected death, I’m still trying to understand and mourn.

It simply sucks.

By: Janine

Janine — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 23:30:02 +0000

Yes, it’s when everyone has gone home and they have all started living their lives once again that it really hits. When all the casseroles and well meaning whatevers have reached their best used by dates that’s when you wish for a well meaning anything, and wish more than ever that you could pull yourself out of it, and at the same time you don’t want to get pulled out for fear you will start to live and forget the one who is no longer there.

But that’s kind of what has to happen. Even if you have to do it while kicking and screaming.

By: foundinidaho

foundinidaho — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 03:04:55 +0000

Should this count when the person in question is a 91 year old grandparent? Because suddenly, this week, it seems to count for me. This woman taught me to read, guided my earliest steps and loved me unconditionally. I don’t really care at this moment that she had a great life and a great marriage and is ready to go. All I know is my grandma is going. And I’m not ready.

By: gorillabuns

gorillabuns — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 00:36:01 +0000

I have quite a few friends ask what they can do for me. Bring food, watch the kids, run errands for me. My answer is and continues to be: please remember me in a month, 6 months, a year’s time. This is when you can truly help. Like you, there are constant reminders that no pound cake or sympathy card can erase or take away.

love you!

By: 180|360

180|360 — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 03:59:09 +0000

That first paragraph will be a constant reminder to KEEP being there for her.

Beautiful words, as always…

By: SMurF

SMurF — Thu, 23 Apr 2009 20:57:07 +0000

My grandmother died this past tuesday morning, and I couldn’t have said what I felt better if you had been speaking directly to me.

I’m worried about how to talk to grandpa, what to say, when to say it, how to say goodbye to him when I leave, when we all leave. How do you live in a house after your spouse of 60 years has died? How do you move out? What do you do with 60 years of love, life, memories, fights, children, jobs, good times and bad times?

I don’t have a way to end this comment. I have nothing witty or insightful to add. Just sadness.

By: Gwen

Gwen — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 14:56:56 +0000

My father’s been dead for six years and I can still start crying in an instant, for no good reason, about him.

So much of life is about loss. We lose, all the time: friends, wealth, perky breasts, family, memories, time. Maybe that’s why we leave each other alone in grief; it’s just too hard to touch the knife that is also ours.

By: trapped

trapped — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 01:22:57 +0000

This was an extraordinary post, Kris. Bravo. I know of what you speak and like the way it was expressed. I lost my younger sister 2 weeks ago. Everything you said I wish I could have expressed.

Peace to you and Shana

By: auntie

auntie — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 21:39:53 +0000

absolutely beautiful.

By: jodifur

jodifur — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 21:04:22 +0000

Beautiful post.

What I find so odd is my office blocked it for maliciousness. This post could not be further than that.

By: The Monkey King

The Monkey King — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 19:24:44 +0000

Amen.

By: foundinidaho

foundinidaho — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 16:41:25 +0000

Oh dear Lord. Shana’s son’s birthday is the day after my youngest – when I saw her due date, I commented on her blog and we exchanged an e-mail, then I checked back to see the happy news of the birth. My heart just aches for her. Thank you for the beautifully written message, Kris and for the heads up. My prayers are with Shana and her family. They are with you as well.

By: Nathan Pralle

Nathan Pralle — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 15:47:25 +0000

Death is such a strange enigma in life; everything else we do is about existing, continuing, moving forward, accomplishing — death is the end of *everything*. Sure, you can quit a job, and that’s the end of that particular job, but you move onwards — and it might be a career move. You’re still going onwards. Death is so final; the last clean cut from all futures.

I have not known Shana except a few days before her tragedy, having found her blog by some means or another, but I am struck to the core at her tragedy. My own little one I cannot imagine losing; I fail to see how she can even move let alone continue on. I wish her and her family strength and healing and comfort, wherever that may be found.

And to you, Kris…the problem with death is that nobody likes to dwell on it, unless it’s near to them, so we forget about those who still see the ghosts in the mirrors and hear the footsteps in the empty halls. For those times we’ve forgotten your pain, I’m ever so sorry, and I offer you the same wishes for comfort and good memories and happy remembrances, and knowing that we as friends are always with you, even if we sometimes forget to be.

By: Jules

Jules — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 14:37:25 +0000

What a difficult time your friend, and you, must be going through! My heart goes out to you both!

By: Jay Schryer

Jay Schryer — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 12:59:19 +0000

This is beautifully written, it captures those emotions perfectly. My condolences…to both of you…