tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2899447029099688486.post1833599426113281576..comments2024-03-26T05:20:10.232-04:00Comments on Between the By-Road and the Main Road: #SOL16: Poised BetweenMary Ann Reillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14349201167828984708noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2899447029099688486.post-24556444901729879142016-05-08T21:05:59.362-04:002016-05-08T21:05:59.362-04:00There's just moving through. Every now and the...There's just moving through. Every now and then there's unexpected grace. Mary Ann Reillyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14349201167828984708noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2899447029099688486.post-19573121743589446792016-05-08T19:52:14.353-04:002016-05-08T19:52:14.353-04:00I hear you.
I felt wrapped in a layer of mourning ...I hear you.<br />I felt wrapped in a layer of mourning for no the hating the passage of time without Tuvia <br />Now I try to wear him, keep him with me to move through this different life. <br />I'm not happy often but not living in extremes as much as I had been but there's no race to normalcy... My therapist keeps reminding me to breathe BKhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07973593425566621090noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2899447029099688486.post-32421414133228082532016-05-08T18:34:01.505-04:002016-05-08T18:34:01.505-04:00On the back of the prayer card for Rob's servi...On the back of the prayer card for Rob's service was the poem, Wild Geese. My friend Jane read it during the service. It speaks deeply to me and to Rob. He was a poet. <br /><br />Acceptance is slippery. I filter many events and situations through the acceptance of Rob's death. Today is mother's day and my husband is not here with us. Each event and many small inconsequential Mary Ann Reillyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14349201167828984708noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2899447029099688486.post-6463639500596058472016-05-08T17:43:23.006-04:002016-05-08T17:43:23.006-04:00A friend shared Mary Oliver's Wild Geese with ...A friend shared Mary Oliver's Wild Geese with me early on in my process and I loved it. Here it is with Mary reading it.<br />https://youtu.be/lv_4xmh_WtE<br /><br />I am in my 8th month of grief and my sadness continues but it's softer, the acceptance of "gone " is more real but even though Tuvia was almost 92 and didn't suffer long , I can so easily replay watching him BKhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07973593425566621090noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2899447029099688486.post-48458678530244983722016-05-07T08:55:02.287-04:002016-05-07T08:55:02.287-04:00I, like so many, find Mary Oliver's poetry sou...I, like so many, find Mary Oliver's poetry soulful. It is like her words are read by my heart. The poem you write here is one I will return to read, to memorize. I thank you Tara for bringing me this poem that soothes what aches within. Grief is simply necessary. Right now it feels like skin. Mary Ann Reillyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14349201167828984708noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2899447029099688486.post-18103052680762749132016-05-07T06:01:50.574-04:002016-05-07T06:01:50.574-04:00The Pastan poem reminds me of this one, from Mary ...The Pastan poem reminds me of this one, from Mary Oliver:<br />"Everything That Was Broken"<br /><br />Everything that was broken has<br />Forgotten its brokenness. I live<br />Now in a sky-house, through every<br />Window the sun. Also your presence.<br />Our touching, our stories. Earthy<br />and holy both. How can this be, but<br />it is. Every day has something in<br />it whose nameTarahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13626451110946889157noreply@blogger.com