February 15th, 2012
Grief, for me, is a wee hours thing.
I wake, disturbed, and see the hour on my bedside clock glowing 4 or 5.
My heart is heavy, with thoughts of Rachel or her beloved Anthony. Once again, I feel the troubling dissonance between pink bows and teddy bears and the disfigurement and death that is the reality of this disease.
I feel pain at her loss, bewildered by my lack of space for grief. On the surface my life moves forward, but I know inside my friend is gone.
Mourning, for me, is done best in the comforting receptive presence of others. I have had to search for that.
Life online is good for building community and making friends.
But it is overfull with voices, noise, and words.
My loss is an absence in my virtual world but online life is a place that offers me little comfort or healing.
The greatest comfort has been my blog, which has given me the chance to speak my grief. The comments I have received feel the closest to comforting receptiveness.
Thank you for that. It means a lot.
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