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Re: shaking my fists at the sky

On Thu, 19 Sep 2002, Peter T. Chattaway wrote:

> On Wed, 18 Sep 2002 TYoder at sschwab_com wrote:
> > my family is preaching to me to get over the anger...that it is letting
> > "satan" win.
>

i disagree. anger is a normal lpart of grieving.  and we *should* be
angry. why does it seem like an affront? i always felt like it was.

ithink it's cos we wern't meant to be temporary.

part of us longs for and recognizes forever.

> > that is only serving to deepen the anger and the depression.

of course it would....

> I wish I knew what to say, Twila.  As far back as I can remember, I've
> always been aware of the fact that our lives are temporary, and I guess
> I have conditioned myself to accept death in principle -- it helps that
> my Oma, who is 87 now, has always spoken rather positively about looking
> forward to death and being with Jesus, etc.  I remember spending a week
> with her, 15 years ago, when my family was out of the country, and her
> saying that, if it ever came down to a choice between keeping her alive
> on machines in a hospital etc. or just letting her die, then "Let me
> die."

it's easy to accept something that has never happened. not to be mean.

i've watched 2 grandparents waste away. and refuse machines. and die.

you watch them slip away and it's no wonder you get mad. that you hurt.
watching a life disappear seems wrong.

having one ripped out from under you seems wrong. it's like the ground
reaching up and smacking you.

the ground shouldn't do that, it should stay where it is.

i don't have much anger. i ran out of it. it made me tired.

i was too tired driving back and forth, being strong, and sitting.

you tend to use up your existence that way, and don't know you're angry,
until someone asks how you are. and something bubles to the surface, or it
just seems wrong that the sun is out.

grandad wasn't really gone. not until i went to see my gramma, and there
were no books by his chair.

i don't like going in the front room anymore - i feel like i see his echo.
but i still visit her some.

i can see signs of him being gone everywhere.

gramma is less tired, she reads books for herself and write me email. she
has energy to laugh. but she'd trade it all for one last day.


there aren't magic words, twila. i don't have any, else i'd give them to
myself.

i know it gets less. i know memories help like anything. i envy your
wealth of memories.

6 months, 9 months - ther's no magic time. i keep thinking i'll go down to
see him, then i remember he's not really around anymore.

saying i'm sorry is no help.

but i am.

rhys
-- 
Calculating in binary code is as easy as 01,10,11.

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