Comments on Twenty Two Years Without Him : PeaceBang

Amen, and amen.

A beautiful tribute to your dad. I'm sorry for your loss, he sounds like an absolutely remarkable man. Having grown up without a father, I am equally sorry for your loss and envious of the time you had with him. You are so fortunate to have had him to love you. And he was fortunate to have such a loving daughter. (((big hug)))

Thanks for that PB. Goddamn it pull yourself up by your bootstraps! CDW lives on every time I BEG one of my kids to learn from other people's mistakes...shoot an intense glare across the room or laugh heartily at one of their cute remarks.

DOC aka SOPB

Whattya mean? Sitting in my car at the beach and sobbing isn't pulling myself up by my boostraps!!??
Harshety-harshbarger!

My eyes are like tiny raisins today. I'm FINE. Especially since I can imagine Sister of Peacebang bringing Carl's inimitable brand of Tough Love (which causes everyone in the room to fall madly enchanted with them while hoping desperately for a special look, a tiny tetch of approval, or one outburst of that roaring laugh) to a classroom of little scramblers.

Also, I forgot to say: most years I just feel the slightest bit sad or annoyed on April 5th(as in "Oh yeah, him. That guy who broke my heart!").
I wonder why it happens that suddenly this old grief just bursts out of the water like a humpback and lands on me, *squash*?

Carl also has two beensy weensy grandsons now, who have the CDW big chocolate chip eyes, courtesy of their father, Brother of Peacebang (and their Mom isn't bad in the big chocolate chip eyes department herself). He would have called them "squirts" or "peanut." And when crossing the street he would have sternly said, "Give me your paw."

PB writes, "I wonder why it happens that suddenly this old grief just bursts out of the water like a humpback and lands on me, *squash*?"

It is the cliched--but no less true--waves of grief. When we first experience the loss, the waves are frequent and intense. As we accomodate the loss, and learn to live with it--I will never, ever say "get over it"--the waves may subside, but they may still come.

Ultimately it is not about overcoming grief. That is, I believe, an unhealthy way of being, as though living with loss is an aberration. Living means learning to live with loss; accomodating it does not mean embracing it, or coming to a point of benign transcendence as though the loss does not matter. It simply means we have learned to wrestle with angels, and though we may walk with a limp, we keep walking--and maybe we see things better, and more clearer than before. Peace.

Blessings to you, PB. Glad you're better today. I lost my grandmother in 1992 and still get those waves too from time to time. Losing a parent must be that much worse.

I agree with peregrinato's sage remarks about living with grief and wrestling with angels (but let's not start referring to Stop & Shop as "Penuel").

Oh that the oil of gladness could dissolve all mourning. Anniversaries can be so hard. My dad died 16 years ago. It comes up most for me during the holidays (but was worst when my kids were born).

Take extra good care of yourself, and don't be afraid to get support from your community.

awww, PB, you just killed me. "Take my paw" is just too much. I've always thought your Carl was related to my Sam, the best dad ever (on the west coast. He had to move when Carl showed up.)

I'm just starting to get my arms around the sensation of living without my mom while still feeling that she is here. It's a strange phenomenom of living from within our parents DNA; seeing out from their chocolate browns and looking in the mirror and seeing ourselves and then wanting to reach over and say, "Hey, now I get why you did that!" or, "I'm sorry I didn't appreciate what you did there." My mother's life isn't over until I forget her and I remember her more almost every day.

You are totally your father's daughter. You've always talked about him and made me feel like I knew him, too.

I'm sorry he isn't here to see what a wonderful woman you are (though I think he'd like me better.)

Now take my paw... please!

Hey there T-man,
It took my mom a year to find someone who would "take" Carl's ashes, as our Unitarian church didn't have a cemetery. We eventually potted him outside the politce station in New Canaan, CT, where he had served as volunteer Police Commissioner for 8 years. We planted a pear tree over the ashes and it's now huge and gorgeous.