when the words fail you
I have never met most of my readers, yet I know a great deal about their lives. I know what their families are like, where they live, whom they love, what they do for a living and sometimes, what their fantasies are. I know all of this through emails that they send me and I will admit that they are a guilty pleasure to read. I will admit to getting some of the information mixed up with other people's, but I try to keep it all straight when I can. I have lived the ups and downs of many of the reader's lives and I have tried to be there whenever they have called upon me. I feel that if nothing else ever comes from my life, I can say that I was, THERE.
Today, in a normal correspondence; a good friend from the Forgottens informed me that her youngest son passed away from carbon monoxide poisoning during the holiday weekend. Her guilt and her loss are complete. There is nothing she can do to find any words to express the shock other than to say, "My baby is dead". Her son was in elementary school. (This comes six short months after the loss of her mother)
This email knocked me down. Regardless of how coarse my exterior appears to be and how tempered and hard my interior might be, I am very compassionate towards the lament of those I love and care for. I don't begin to think that I know her pain, but I can't escape the feelings of loss that accompany her now. My mouth has fallen still and my fingers are frozen above the keyboard....
In this moment... I have no words. Nothing I can say satisfies my feelings of sorrow. This isn't my loss. But I am human and I must try to bear some of the burden as I feel it will relieve some of the pain from my loved one. I will not wear the scar, but I can feel the pain.
"What do I do now?" she asked. I don't know... And not knowing what to say in response is an even bigger pain as I feel I am letting her down in her biggest moment of need.
Her mother died this past winter and I did what I could to help. She worked through it but was still a little broken up this past Mother's Day. She's a strong woman and she has survived a difficult divorce and still maintained a home, her job and her health through it all. She has powers that many of us would be envious of. I hope they find her now.
The best advice I have for her is to embrace her eldest son and her father. Use your combined strengths to help get through this hard time together. I am not sure that the loss of a child is something that I could understand in any terms presented to me. So I have to use the tone of her choosen words to sense it. Even then, I only feel that I am getting just a pinch.
When my father (Chuck) died, it took a year to recover from it. It was so incredibly painful that first week that I couldn't stop the anguish from overcoming me at every turn. Everything was wrapped up in my pain. It wasn't until a few months of solitude had passed that I started to address my feelings. It started with me talking outloud to his soul and memory. I was touring extensively in my car and it helped that no one was around to see it happen or try to offer advice. Suffering is often a solitary emotion and no two people are alike in their sorrow. As much as you want to express your rage, doing so only enrages you as you don't feel they get it or you're tired of people trying to save you. You just want to let it out! The injustice! The unaswered questions! The stories left without endings!
I drove for weeks all across America's arterials, I spent that time talking to him, remembering him and crawling out from underneath the heavy rock that fell on me when he died. It's been seven years or so since he passed away and I still miss him. The pain remains, but now it's manageable pain. Sometimes it's nice to talk about him, other times I just smile and let it go. My experience was a solitary one, nothing I can say about it will let you in on that experience. If you asked me if there was a method to moving on I would have to be honest and say - No.
As many of you might remember, the editor of the Book Of Daniel lost a loved one about a year and a half ago. Her life changed completely from the experience. Her attitudes, her lifestyle and her beliefs about a lot of things are all new and she left the Forgottens for a Yoga commune in Greece. "I'm having the best time of my life," she said in her last email to me. Does her pain remain? Absolutely. I doubt that I will ever know her without it. But I can see that she can still enjoy life and feel pleasure. It's just not the same anymore. In some ways the pain is distracting to her. But when she sees the pleasure, it's far greater in scope and meaning, her loss brought on a larger horizon for her to gaze upon.
I am filled with anguish today and I have no words to express it. I have no idea what to say to my friend and I don't want to begin to believe that there is anything I could say. Words are very powerful and sometimes the absence of words can be the most powerful statement you can make.
Out of respect for my good friend Pam....
Today, in a normal correspondence; a good friend from the Forgottens informed me that her youngest son passed away from carbon monoxide poisoning during the holiday weekend. Her guilt and her loss are complete. There is nothing she can do to find any words to express the shock other than to say, "My baby is dead". Her son was in elementary school. (This comes six short months after the loss of her mother)
This email knocked me down. Regardless of how coarse my exterior appears to be and how tempered and hard my interior might be, I am very compassionate towards the lament of those I love and care for. I don't begin to think that I know her pain, but I can't escape the feelings of loss that accompany her now. My mouth has fallen still and my fingers are frozen above the keyboard....
In this moment... I have no words. Nothing I can say satisfies my feelings of sorrow. This isn't my loss. But I am human and I must try to bear some of the burden as I feel it will relieve some of the pain from my loved one. I will not wear the scar, but I can feel the pain.
"What do I do now?" she asked. I don't know... And not knowing what to say in response is an even bigger pain as I feel I am letting her down in her biggest moment of need.
Her mother died this past winter and I did what I could to help. She worked through it but was still a little broken up this past Mother's Day. She's a strong woman and she has survived a difficult divorce and still maintained a home, her job and her health through it all. She has powers that many of us would be envious of. I hope they find her now.
The best advice I have for her is to embrace her eldest son and her father. Use your combined strengths to help get through this hard time together. I am not sure that the loss of a child is something that I could understand in any terms presented to me. So I have to use the tone of her choosen words to sense it. Even then, I only feel that I am getting just a pinch.
When my father (Chuck) died, it took a year to recover from it. It was so incredibly painful that first week that I couldn't stop the anguish from overcoming me at every turn. Everything was wrapped up in my pain. It wasn't until a few months of solitude had passed that I started to address my feelings. It started with me talking outloud to his soul and memory. I was touring extensively in my car and it helped that no one was around to see it happen or try to offer advice. Suffering is often a solitary emotion and no two people are alike in their sorrow. As much as you want to express your rage, doing so only enrages you as you don't feel they get it or you're tired of people trying to save you. You just want to let it out! The injustice! The unaswered questions! The stories left without endings!
I drove for weeks all across America's arterials, I spent that time talking to him, remembering him and crawling out from underneath the heavy rock that fell on me when he died. It's been seven years or so since he passed away and I still miss him. The pain remains, but now it's manageable pain. Sometimes it's nice to talk about him, other times I just smile and let it go. My experience was a solitary one, nothing I can say about it will let you in on that experience. If you asked me if there was a method to moving on I would have to be honest and say - No.
As many of you might remember, the editor of the Book Of Daniel lost a loved one about a year and a half ago. Her life changed completely from the experience. Her attitudes, her lifestyle and her beliefs about a lot of things are all new and she left the Forgottens for a Yoga commune in Greece. "I'm having the best time of my life," she said in her last email to me. Does her pain remain? Absolutely. I doubt that I will ever know her without it. But I can see that she can still enjoy life and feel pleasure. It's just not the same anymore. In some ways the pain is distracting to her. But when she sees the pleasure, it's far greater in scope and meaning, her loss brought on a larger horizon for her to gaze upon.
I am filled with anguish today and I have no words to express it. I have no idea what to say to my friend and I don't want to begin to believe that there is anything I could say. Words are very powerful and sometimes the absence of words can be the most powerful statement you can make.
Out of respect for my good friend Pam....
posted by Daniel Loomis | 8:40 AM
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