Difference between revisions of "2003-02-24 As Tigger lay dying"
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The night Brian called me in Durham and said it was time for me to be here, half-seen things seemed to scurry around the dark recesses of the upstairs | The night Brian called me in Durham and said it was time for me to be here, half-seen things seemed to scurry around the dark recesses of the upstairs | ||
hallway. They looked like dark grey-brown ghosts in the shape of rats or slugs. I imagined they were the product of my overactive imagination, messengers and workers engaged in the errands of managing one life's transition into whatever happens next. I wondered what they were doing in my house rather than in Tigger's. Was my life somehow more in transition than hers? Were our lives so closely entwined that such a transition in her life would necessarily involve me? | hallway. They looked like dark grey-brown ghosts in the shape of rats or slugs. I imagined they were [either] the product of my overactive imagination, [or possibly] messengers and workers engaged in the errands of managing one life's transition into whatever happens next. I wondered what they were doing in my house rather than in [[Tigger]]'s. Was my life somehow more in transition than hers? Were our lives so closely entwined that such a transition in her life would necessarily involve me? | ||
Having watched everyone around me break into tears repeatedly while I have felt only the vaguest impulses of grief, at most a diffuse fog of sadness, I realize that I am still mourning [[Jenny]] more than I mourn for Tigger. Or is it that I'm mourning my own lost life? It's only been so very recently that I realized much of my yearning for Jenny was actually yearning for how my life should have been that it is still difficult to separate the two griefs. | Having watched everyone around me break into tears repeatedly while I have felt only the vaguest impulses of grief, at most a diffuse fog of sadness, I realize that I am still mourning [[Jenny]] more than I mourn for Tigger. Or is it that I'm mourning my own lost life? It's only been so very recently that I realized much of my yearning for Jenny was actually yearning for how my life should have been that it is still difficult to separate the two griefs. | ||
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[[Category:Woozle writings|2003-02-24 As Tigger lay dying]] | [[Category:Woozle writings|2003-02-24 As Tigger lay dying]] | ||
[[Category:Tigger|2003-02-24 As Tigger lay dying]] | |||
Latest revision as of 22:47, 18 September 2017
2003-02-24
status: early afternoon, Brian's house in Berkeley
The night Brian called me in Durham and said it was time for me to be here, half-seen things seemed to scurry around the dark recesses of the upstairs hallway. They looked like dark grey-brown ghosts in the shape of rats or slugs. I imagined they were [either] the product of my overactive imagination, [or possibly] messengers and workers engaged in the errands of managing one life's transition into whatever happens next. I wondered what they were doing in my house rather than in Tigger's. Was my life somehow more in transition than hers? Were our lives so closely entwined that such a transition in her life would necessarily involve me?
Having watched everyone around me break into tears repeatedly while I have felt only the vaguest impulses of grief, at most a diffuse fog of sadness, I realize that I am still mourning Jenny more than I mourn for Tigger. Or is it that I'm mourning my own lost life? It's only been so very recently that I realized much of my yearning for Jenny was actually yearning for how my life should have been that it is still difficult to separate the two griefs.
2003-02-25
status: notes written on the plane
Airplanes are loneliness.
There's a ghost on my back. (Or are there two?)
The main reason I left when I did, I think, was that being away from home is painful.