-
Barney Devlin RIP, Death and dying, Dispatch from the Diaspora, FInal wishes, Funeral, Grieving, Northern Ireland Culture, Seamus Heaney, Seamus Heaney, The Forge
A Moment of Silence for Barney Devlin
“The Forge” by Seamus Heaney (1969) All I know is a door into the dark. Outside, old axles and iron hoops rusting; Inside, the hammered anvil’s short-pitched ring, The unpredictable fantail of sparks Or hiss when a new shoe toughens in water. The anvil must be somewhere in the centre, Horned as a unicorn, at one end and square, Set there immoveable: an altar Where he expends himself in shape and music. Sometimes, leather-aproned, hairs in his nose, He leans out on the jamb, recalls a clatter Of hoofs where traffic is flashing in rows; Then grunts and goes in, with a slam and flick To beat real iron out,…
-
Dispatch from the Diaspora, falling in love, Holidays, John Steinbeck, Love, magic and loss, Marriage, Memoir, Milestones, Themes of childhood, Valentine's Day, Wedding Anniversary
a little love medicine – “nothing good gets away”
Happy Valentine’s Day. I have conducted many of the most significant relationships in my life almost entirely by telephone. With so many miles of ocean or freeway stretching between our houses, it is easier to continue our conversations from the comfort of our own homes. Always, there is something to talk about even when there is nothing to talk about. Before Skype and Facebook, I treasured long-distance phone calls with my mother, usually during the weekend when we could be less circumspect with the time difference and the cost per minute. Too, there were sporadic phone calls from childhood friends, the rhythm of home so achingly familiar, we fell softly into conversation, easily picking up…
-
After death of a spouse, Aging, Being a Widow, Death and dying, Dispatch from the Diaspora, Dying, Grieving, Joan Didion, Meghan ORourke, Love, Marriage, Mastectomy, sickness, Starting over
in sickness & in health
I think I said that grief is passive. It creeps over you in those famous waves, you know, whereas mourning is an active process of remembering, reliving the good and the bad, and defanging it in a way. Until you have examined all those memories, they don’t lose their power to undo you. ~ Joan Didion It is a beautiful day in the desert, unseasonably warm. An explosion of white blossoms on the pear tree in my front yard confirms that our winter is probably over. It’s only February. Inside my house, the air hangs heavy and unfamiliar, the way it does when I return home after a vacation. Time for…
-
for my bff on her birthday
My best friend and I don’t exchange birthday gifts or cards, and I don’t know why, because in the areas of gift-giving and card-selection, we are masters. I take her for granted, and I don’t thank her enough for being the friend that she is, so in lieu of a card or a gift, I’m sending out a thank you or two on her special day: Dear Amanda, For wading through all the bullshit with me since 2003 and for relishing in all the joy, thank you. For cooking all those healthy meals for Ken after his surgeries and for going to the house and finding him because I knew, I just knew…
