Dealing with death
I know bloggers are often criticized for navel-gazing about meaningless stuff that no one else could possibly be interested in — and I am one of the chief offenders. But there’s a difference between yammering about your new inkjet printer and writing something deeply personal. This week, I read two different blog entries by people remembering family members who had passed on. I think writing that is fearlessly personal can become universal, and these were a couple of prime examples.
One was from my sister-in-law. It starts out this way:
Today would be my brother’s birthday; every year since his death, I’ve gone to the beach with the Little Guy, and we’ve tossed flowers off the end of the pier and talked about my brother. When Miss Baby is a bit older, she can come along too. I prefer to commemorate this date rather than the anniversary of his death.
Go and read how she discussed this with my nephew.
Then, Newscoma wrote about her mother:
It will be a decade. February 28th.
I’m going to get this out of the way. On that day, I will have to drive into the country to stare at the fields and meadows she loved, then go to her grave and lay down flowers. She liked flowers, but maybe, this year, I will play Beethoven or John Coltrane there.
Will that comfort her?
No. It will only comfort me.
Again, the most meaningful stuff is on the other side of the link.
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