#mourning
i don’t understand how someone can be there one minute and gone the next.
I know I’ll survive it but I don’t want to
you know these moments when a friend just casually says something that validates your friendship, like just refers to something as “our place” or “our thing” and suddenly your heart is auditioning for Cirque du Soleil and days later you’re still thinking about it
Aujourd'hui, nous pleurons avec Bruxelles et toute la Belgique en face d'une autre horrible tragédie inexplicable. Mais demain, on ne pleurera pas encore, parce qu'il faut continuer: le temps se fuit et s'arrête pour rien. La Beauté et du Sens dans notre courte existence mondaine nous attendent, comme des enfants perdus dans le chaos, et ils comptent sur nous pour les retrouver.
Art: Le voile (1887). Fernand Khnopff. Belgian Symbolist.
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A fact about me is
I can’t write when I’m happy
The only way for me to
Write about happiness is
By making it all sad
Like a curse
All good things come to an end
You don’t miss something you have
Till it’s gone
‘I was so happy till ’
Oh god , Disney lied
Happy ever after doesn’t exist
Enjoy the moment
Until it’s time to mourn it
You know when you’re thinking about it
And smiling
But deep inside you
You wish you could go back and relive the moment
Be that happy again
Feel that happiness again
Laugh as hard
Love as hard
But hey , you can’t
So you start mourning the moment
Wishing it back to life
We’re all a little bit cursed
Why do happy moments
Have the power
To make us sad ?
The Mourning of Pallas
Anne Louis Girodet-Trioson (French; 1767–1824)
ca. 1790–93
Pen and brown ink, brush, and gray and brown wash, heightened with white
The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York
Design for an illustration in Pierre Didot the Elder’s 1798 edition of the works of Virgil
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OWL
Ambivalent as the bird of wisdom and of darkness and death.
Amerindian: Wisdom; divination
Celtic: Chthonic; ‘the night hag’; the 'corpse bird’.
Chinese: Evil; crime; death; horror; ungrateful children.
Christian: Satan; the powers of darkness; solitude; mourning; desolation; bad news. The call of the owl is the 'song of death’. The owl was used to depict Jews who preferred the darkness to the light of the gospel.
Egyptian: Death; night; coldness.
Graeco-Roman: The screed owl symbolized wisdom and was sacred to Athena/Minerva. The owl was an attribute of the Etruscan god of darkness and of Night.
Hebrew:Blindness.
Hindu: Emblem of Yama, god of the dead.
Japanese: Death; ill omen.
Mexican: Night; death.
[Source: An Illustrated Encyclopedia of Traditional Symbols by J.C. Cooper]
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Daguerreotype portrait of two men posing with the grave of Solomon Harthorn somewhere in California, c. 1853.
Source: Sotheby’s.
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From YOSHIKI’S official Instagram.
https://www.instagram.com/tv/CdiES8tgXwd
父 (my dad), Hide, Taiji, 母 (my mom)
(He’s listed the losses chronologically, not by priority)
Here’s the YouTube link that he shared:
The purpose of the coat: Terry Pratchett’s memorial.
After I read my piece, Rob Wilkins presented me with a hat that Terry had left me.
It was an honour to conjure a bit of Midnight in the form of a coat for you to wear at this bittersweet & magical occasion for a treasured friend (who vastly treasured you too ~ for he bequeathed you his felted crown!).
[Kambriel.com~Etsy~Twitter~Tumblr~Facebook ~ Livejournal~Dreamwidth]
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Previews of the very new & very black Fuliginous Frock coat designed by Kambrielfor@neil-gaiman
https://twitter.com/neilhimself/status/718924706678730752?s=01It has a purpose.
Indeed. ❤
~ KambrielPost link
As if you never left
My heart aches your absence everyday,
There’s a part of my soul you stole away.
Now that you’re gone, I just can replay
Your lessons and wise words
that will forever stay.
I know it was your time to go and leave,
And though we’re in different sides of
Heaven’s gates, you’re here with me,
Repairing my heart of all the grief
And filling it with hope and belief.
When I think of you I can’t avoid the storm
Of salty rain and deep mourn.
Concurrently I feel your arms’ warmth
Protecting, guiding me henceforth,
For you are my dear angel, my true north.
- S.T.S.
I know it has been a while since our last post here and I am sorry this couldn’t be a happier one to come back. My heart breaks while writing this.
We had to say goodbye to our big beautiful boy Blake this Friday. It was his 11.5th birthday and just one day shy of his 11 year anniversary of meeting Sambucca, the love of his life.
He was completely fine last Saturday and Sunday morning he suddenly spiraled into great suffering. We reacted immediately and tried absolutely everything in our power to help him and find the cause. Over the course of the week we went to 2 different ERs, a vet and a neurology specialist. He was being monitored 24/7, he had an IV, we had a catheter installed and a feeding tube. We got his blood work done, x-rays, ultrasound… even an MRI and a spinal tap. And yet, frustratingly no definitive diagnosis could be made.
However looking at his symptoms and the lack of indicators in almost anything else, we are fairly certain it was a neurological issue. Most likely a very aggressive, fast growing cancerous brain tumor that probably caused an unwitnessed seizure, from which he never really recovered. If it really was a tumor, we could tell from the MRI that it would not have been operable. The treatments we could do didn’t show any improvement and radiation or chemo-therapy wouldn’t have made any sense.
There was nothing else we could do for him and while we managed to stabilize him so he’d be more comfortable, he wouldn’t and couldn’t get better on his own. So we made the hardest decision of my life, to release him so he could rest in peace.
He was so weak that I was terrified of losing him, when he’d be all alone in a foreign, sterile place, surrounded by barking dogs and other animals that were fighting their own painful battles. I kept sending him good energy and strength from afar, telling him that we would come and be with him as soon as we could. And he was very brave and strong and held on. We had a warm, nice and quiet room all to ourselves and we could bring Sambucca and Faolan to be with him as well. He looked really good, much better than he had all week. He was awake and aware, and the doctors did a great job making him as comfortable as he could be. Blake was so happy to see us and was purring softly in our arms. We thanked him for all the joy and memories he had brought us in all those years together (he’s been with me for a third of my life) and told him how much we loved him.
He fell asleep peacefully on our laps within seconds.
I am so thankful he gave us these last moments together. We will always love him and carry him in our hearts. The apartment seems so empty and quiet without his big fluffy presence, but I hope he’s watching over us and maybe his spirit will come and visit us from time to time.
I miss you Blake. Until we meet again. ❤️
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Currently volunteering a 3hr shift to the Pet Loss Support Hotline at MSU CVM. I am a firm believer that our ‘pets’ are a part of our family and if you are grieving, struggling to cope with their loss, then there should be someone there to help you. Tonight, that might be me!
If you or anyone you know is struggling with the loss of a pet and feels like they need someone to talk to, there are options!
- The Listening Ear 24-hour Crisis Hotline: (517) 337-1717
- The Iams Pet Loss Support Resource Center: (888) 332 7738 [M-F 8-5]
- WSU Hotline: (886) 266-8635
- Until April 20th, 2017 MSU Pet Loss Support Hotline: (517) 432-2696
6:30 pm - 9:30 pm EST [T,W,Th]
It is home
& nothing else. For home is to give
every doorway a human it knows
it cannot keep. That this golden light
is shaved down by a grating heart
of loss—smashed blue in the clay
sun, rhubarb moonlight, loom of a wooden
feeling that you are missing. The ice
cubes of a vodka tonic are melting
by the lake. The moose are still
awaiting your curved arrival.
This week is foggy,
but a kiln is warming somewhere.
There is so much lettuce in the garden.
Here is the Mooselake of summers past
aged to a single piece of beach glass.
Here is the dock to a mourning lake.
This life is blue, and every teary eye a moon
trying to excuse light for leaving
it slivered each day. This is fullness
confused for emptiness. This is the birch
built black bear rotted to a bare truth.
Just name it time.
Just name it love.
You are calling sandwich orders from the stairs
above the water, rattling down the hill in the cart.
This month is but a rattling return.
We ask for you,
but are given an empty dining chair, mosaic squares,
stacked log walls, this day.
Here is the doorway of loss. Here is your house
with all the chairs filled, rocking chairs, rocking.
Here’s everyone who loves you crammed
into the screened porch: smelling of salt bagels,
wet daffodils, bald hearts, trying to find a mountain
road, raspberry smashed ground, a way home to you.
This world is throbbing. This house is full.
There are many doorways
and we are all moving through.
