Privilege Blog

Thank You

You have written me such wonderful replies to Thursday’s post. I can’t reply, I am still not very wordful, but I want you to know how much I appreciate each one and that I am learning from what you are saying.

See you soon.

Much love,

Lisa

5 Responses

  1. When first husband died, it felt as if I lost my heart. When my mother died, I lost my very soul. I am so very sorry for your loss.

  2. Lisa, I didn’t see your post until Saturday, when I always look for a new one. I am so sorry about your mother. I tried to respond to the post, but couldn’t. You write so movingly, and my mother’s death is so recent that I find it painful to think of any mother’s death. I hasten to add that I “shouldn’t” feel so terrible because my mother lived to 92 before entering 8 months of failing physical and mental health. For the last few months she was not really there. I am so fortunate compared to you, and to 99.9% of all people. But it is still painful.

    Thank you for your blog. I enjoy your writing tremendously and hope to someday read your longer project.

  3. How does one even communicate w/ a tectonic shift. For me, I try to gain “control” [of dealing w/ my mother’s death] by acting as an uninvolved narrator, an observer. So I supply my narrator with snips of rear view mirror memory. Sometimes I wish I were more a “feeler” than “thinker” – I think you are both, and I think you’ve put gorgeous words around your and Nancy’s relationship over the years. You’re in a singular place since you are her first born. I’m working on a piece/peace right now re The Things She Asked Me To Carry For Her, and how I still hold them tightly for her these 2 decades after she departed. I salute you my dear Lisa, with much love. F.

  4. Oh My Heart To You, Lisa. My Heart To You. I am the jeweler that made your gold star and whose husband died unexpectedly almost 3 years ago – remember? I am just teeny tiny steps starting to get better – so I surround you with soft clouds of life that slow things down and dampen the hurting a little. Love – pam

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