I wasn’t sure last night if I wanted to write what I did and share what I was feeling. I’m now glad I did. You guys have turned a morning I wasn’t looking forward to to the start of a good day. You people are the best bunch of readers a writer could ever be allowed to write for. You’re the best. It’s a privilege to know you all. And I feel I do, particularly after reading through the responses to the last post.
I don't know about you, but I feel as if you and we (your readers) have forged a family of sorts, one that I'm very privileged to enjoy. And in reading the comments, it appears that many of us have shared similar experiences and journeys. My good friend and art teacher (she is an artist too) just lost her husband before Christmas. When I went to her house last week to "do art", Toni wanted to talk about her experience, because, as she said, "No one really wants to hear about the details of losing someone you love except perhaps someone who has also lost someone they love." So, that "lesson" became a sort of mutual therapy session for us. I hope you find some good listener along the way who will just sit and be there for you.
I remember when losing my dad and my mom, people skitter away from talking about the person you lost - almost as if they didnt exist. The memories are what is important - mostly the good ones, but sometimes the ones that maybe werent so good. All of them are important.
thanks for saying that, Fern. I wish I could be that eloquent. obviously, I feel the same way about being here.
I remember seeing Tom's posts on LT's Substack and thinking something like "damn, I like how this guy thinks and writes." when I found out he had his own, I went for it very quickly. I'm here for good, and I'm not just speaking for myself, am I?
You write for so many of us who have already or will undergo (a terrible word) or take on something similar. But no two experiences are the same. I have written, mostly privately, about my and my late husband’s years-long struggles with Parkinson’s. I haven’t been able to address with this community my beloved daughter’s unexpected death this summer, three weeks prior to my husband’s. You have given me courage to share it with this loving and supportive community. This is not for sympathy, just to say we’re all in this together ( a shout out to Joyce Vance).
I am sorry, Mary, for your losses. This community is a caring group of folks. I hope it helps a bit to share your sorrow here and we will hold you in the light.
I believe when we open up and share ourselves with others we create a trusting and supportive environment. And the world becomes a better place. Thank you Tom for trusting us enough to share. Take care of yourself and know we are here for you.
I've been meaning to say for quite awhile how much I've come to love this particular community after realizing that what we have here is the other side of "social media." the good side.
I'm glad we can be relied upon to rally when it's necessary.
I just upgraded to paid as a way to show my support. Writing that post was difficult I’m sure but it was hard to read too, I appreciated the humanity of all who commented. I am in your age demographic and dealing with few health issues, I take comfort in focusing on things bigger than my own small world, the natural world is my religion.
Look after yourself and keep writing, you’re very good at it.
In Kafka's odd little story, "The Country Doctor,"a country doctor rides out, late at night, to see to a boy who, he has been told, has an open wound that will not heal. The arrives and walks I to where the boy is lying, he sees that, indeed, there is nothing he can do. What the doctor does, in his despair at not being able to help the boy who reminds him of himself at that age, is to get onto the bed and simply lie down next to the boy and his wound. There is an old myth named by Carl Jung, the mythology of the wounded healer. Its central meaning is that those of ulike thejrs who are wouned by life heal others who are wounded in the same way are healed, by exposing our ownas wounds, are healed and create a space where others who recognize our wounds as like their own, cand form a community of wounded healers in which they are both healed and her;sers. And that, TC, is what you have done with this post. You have created a safe space for those of us of us who have had equally intense experiences and nowhere to share them. And now we are a community of wounded healers.
You're most welcome TC. I'm glad we helped make it a good day. That is, of course, one of the important things friends do for each other--help them get through the difficult times, in ways that reduce stress and help us live longer, and healthier.
As Maggie says above, people tend to skitter away when death is discussed. As a middle school teacher who lived with, then lost, my Mom to Alzheimer's, my body/brain decided it had done enough decades of holding it together, and now it would no longer do so. I cried freely, and never knew what would trigger me. I explained to my "kids" what was happening when I had those occasional tears. My students' empathy was beyond anything I could have expected. Then my dad suddenly died. So many tears. But joy and laughter - he had a full life. Then we lost a grandson in an horrible accident that involved his father / our SiL (I always add, not a gun accident). There is no pain like losing a child, and these circumstances don't get worse. So when you ask me how many grandkids I have, I deliberately count on my fingers and tell you, "7 living, one deceased. His name was Cameron." Because Cameron lived, and I will never pretend he didn't. Enough about me. TC, keep telling us stories. Much love to you.
I wish I knew a way around the pain of losing someone you love - but I don't. We have to go through the grief and anger and loss to get through to the other side. When you get there, may all the memories you hold dear be the happy ones.
I don't know about you, but I feel as if you and we (your readers) have forged a family of sorts, one that I'm very privileged to enjoy. And in reading the comments, it appears that many of us have shared similar experiences and journeys. My good friend and art teacher (she is an artist too) just lost her husband before Christmas. When I went to her house last week to "do art", Toni wanted to talk about her experience, because, as she said, "No one really wants to hear about the details of losing someone you love except perhaps someone who has also lost someone they love." So, that "lesson" became a sort of mutual therapy session for us. I hope you find some good listener along the way who will just sit and be there for you.
You guys are the best listeners.
I remember when losing my dad and my mom, people skitter away from talking about the person you lost - almost as if they didnt exist. The memories are what is important - mostly the good ones, but sometimes the ones that maybe werent so good. All of them are important.
Ellen is right - we are a family of sorts.
Yes, she is. We are.
When my niece drowned at 19, my brother said, just don’t forget her.
I quite agree, very well said Ellen.
So true
The richness of your heart, the range of your reach, your commitment to doing good and to us, Tom, make us all better. 💓
What Fern said, Tom. You are good for all of us and we are thinking of you, wishing you well.
thanks for saying that, Fern. I wish I could be that eloquent. obviously, I feel the same way about being here.
I remember seeing Tom's posts on LT's Substack and thinking something like "damn, I like how this guy thinks and writes." when I found out he had his own, I went for it very quickly. I'm here for good, and I'm not just speaking for myself, am I?
My sentiments exactly, thank you
No sir, Mr. Levine, you are not.
Same here. Saw Tom’s cogent responses on LFAA and had to search him out.
You write for so many of us who have already or will undergo (a terrible word) or take on something similar. But no two experiences are the same. I have written, mostly privately, about my and my late husband’s years-long struggles with Parkinson’s. I haven’t been able to address with this community my beloved daughter’s unexpected death this summer, three weeks prior to my husband’s. You have given me courage to share it with this loving and supportive community. This is not for sympathy, just to say we’re all in this together ( a shout out to Joyce Vance).
Thank you Mary - that's the best compliment, that it helps you.
Tough journeys made bearable, with empathy and understanding.
I am sorry, Mary, for your losses. This community is a caring group of folks. I hope it helps a bit to share your sorrow here and we will hold you in the light.
I am so sorry, Mary, that you lost your husband
Mary, sending a huge hug from across the way in Florida.
Oh my. I had no idea. Virtual hugs, my friend.
This hug is of admiration and appreciation for you, MaryB. I hope that you will accept it.
I send you a comforting hug, Mary.
We might not see you in person, but we love you, TC.
I believe when we open up and share ourselves with others we create a trusting and supportive environment. And the world becomes a better place. Thank you Tom for trusting us enough to share. Take care of yourself and know we are here for you.
Exactly so.
I've been meaning to say for quite awhile how much I've come to love this particular community after realizing that what we have here is the other side of "social media." the good side.
I'm glad we can be relied upon to rally when it's necessary.
I no longer miss FB or Twitt
I just upgraded to paid as a way to show my support. Writing that post was difficult I’m sure but it was hard to read too, I appreciated the humanity of all who commented. I am in your age demographic and dealing with few health issues, I take comfort in focusing on things bigger than my own small world, the natural world is my religion.
Look after yourself and keep writing, you’re very good at it.
thanks much for your comment and for the subscription.
Your devotion and kindness are moving; so are your willingness and ability to share them. Thank you!
In Kafka's odd little story, "The Country Doctor,"a country doctor rides out, late at night, to see to a boy who, he has been told, has an open wound that will not heal. The arrives and walks I to where the boy is lying, he sees that, indeed, there is nothing he can do. What the doctor does, in his despair at not being able to help the boy who reminds him of himself at that age, is to get onto the bed and simply lie down next to the boy and his wound. There is an old myth named by Carl Jung, the mythology of the wounded healer. Its central meaning is that those of ulike thejrs who are wouned by life heal others who are wounded in the same way are healed, by exposing our ownas wounds, are healed and create a space where others who recognize our wounds as like their own, cand form a community of wounded healers in which they are both healed and her;sers. And that, TC, is what you have done with this post. You have created a safe space for those of us of us who have had equally intense experiences and nowhere to share them. And now we are a community of wounded healers.
Thank you.TCinL
by our wounds we are healed,
You're most welcome TC. I'm glad we helped make it a good day. That is, of course, one of the important things friends do for each other--help them get through the difficult times, in ways that reduce stress and help us live longer, and healthier.
As Maggie says above, people tend to skitter away when death is discussed. As a middle school teacher who lived with, then lost, my Mom to Alzheimer's, my body/brain decided it had done enough decades of holding it together, and now it would no longer do so. I cried freely, and never knew what would trigger me. I explained to my "kids" what was happening when I had those occasional tears. My students' empathy was beyond anything I could have expected. Then my dad suddenly died. So many tears. But joy and laughter - he had a full life. Then we lost a grandson in an horrible accident that involved his father / our SiL (I always add, not a gun accident). There is no pain like losing a child, and these circumstances don't get worse. So when you ask me how many grandkids I have, I deliberately count on my fingers and tell you, "7 living, one deceased. His name was Cameron." Because Cameron lived, and I will never pretend he didn't. Enough about me. TC, keep telling us stories. Much love to you.
I used to be one who rarely cried unless I was mad, loss changed that, did it ever…
Thank you, Linda, for telling us you are Cameron's grandmother. I am a grandmother too and grandchildren are very special.
I wish I knew a way around the pain of losing someone you love - but I don't. We have to go through the grief and anger and loss to get through to the other side. When you get there, may all the memories you hold dear be the happy ones.
We're lucky to have YOU.
At 64 I’ve been through several losses of various types. Every experience is different, and there’s never any such thing as “ready”.
This is a community of friends that you’re hosting here, Tom. We are here fr you as you are for us.
I buried my son. Honoring end of life goes hand in hand with honoring life. The all of it.
I think people skitter away because its raw and uncomfortable. But it is life.
I feel like I know you, and that is a blessing. xxx's
You are very welcome, Tom! Not responding was unthinkable because we support our friends. Also, thank you for your candor - that's bravery.