Question:
We share your sadness and gr*ef, and are glad that you found the strength to write about, and for, your t. What a wonderful and bl*ssed thing, to have it read at his service! *hugs* Ravensong – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
"If you feel bad, blow bubble stuff or watch the snails after it rains. That always makes me feel better." – Katy, of Ravensong
Response:
Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
Response:
I am glad that you are able to write, and gladder still that the memorial was, for you, a celebration of this person who has helped you so much. I wish that I had a reason to celebrate help that I had received. I mean, I certainly do not wish anybody to be d**d. I just wish that I had the incredible experience of devotion to you and help that you received. You were a very lucky woman to have had this wonderful to. I hope that you will find another of equal talent and dedication. trill
– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
Response:
Trill, I do wish you had been able to work with him as I have been. None of the not nice that you experienced. Only kindness. Maybe not enough pushing, but I left that to him. Pushing me might have closed me down. Why do I say might!? I know it would have. Am worried about someone new shoving and undoing what I am tenuously holding onto. I am adopting his cat, the one I gave to him in November. He had finally agreed excitedly one day when I asked, and he loved her totally. We are picking her up tomorrow. I do know how fortunate I am to have had this t on my side. and he always was. Against insur. turkeys and anyone else who threatened. I wish I knew how to find a t. I’m hoping this guy on friday knows of someone suitable who is taking on mes and will be friendly. I began a list in my journal today, about the things a t has to have. I am moving along, thinking of things like that to consider, instead of sitting and crying. But minister person says I need to be alone and then cry or whatever. sometimes I think he is right. I am on alert and behaving right now. aS always with people around. I’m meeting with him on WEdnesday. Freaking now about seeing the guy on Friday. No my t to help me prepare for that. I always get terrified to do new things. some of me has’t changed much. doctors scare me silly. One of my choices is to stop working on the DID, and retire from my teaching accepting a much smaller pension than I would have if I hang on seeing a t until 2010. I don’t know what to do.Any ideas from the group would be welcome. Thank you trilly one for your kindness at this time, and all the times you are kind to me. I’m sorry you are having such a hard time of it. I wish for you the strength that I have in arms and legs and wish it could be shared. jane – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – I am glad that you are able to write, and gladder still that the memorial was, for you, a celebration of this person who has helped you so much. I wish that I had a reason to celebrate help that I had received. I mean, I certainly do not wish anybody to be d**d. I just wish that I had the incredible experience of devotion to you and help that you received. You were a very lucky woman to have had this wonderful to. I hope that you will find another of equal talent and dedication. trill Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
Response:
Hi jane,
Trill, I do wish you had been able to work with him as I have been.
I guess I should say thank you. It seems like a sad and futile wish, however. And I still am stunned and grieving with you about this loss, so never mind the petty problems I have to deal with, please, never mind. None of the not nice that you experienced. Only kindness.
It was miraculous. And I am glad for you that you had it, but then that makes me all the sadder that you lost it. Maybe not enough pushing, but I left that to him. Pushing me might have closed me down.
It always did me. And when I tried to explain that, I was told that it didn’t matter, I _had_ to be pushed. Why do I say might!? I know it would have.
Of course. And all of the Ts should listen to us about that stuff. And in saying that, I grieve the loss of your t even more, and again. Am worried about someone new shoving and undoing what I am tenuously holding onto.
The most difficult part is finding a t who can be trusted and who knows enough about what sie is doing to help. I think that most of them are fools with their own agendas — agendas that grew out of their own personal problems and sent them into the field of psychothrpy as a way of trying to solve their own problems instead of helping other people. I am adopting his cat, the one I gave to him in November. He had finally agreed excitedly one day when I asked, and he loved her totally. We are picking her up tomorrow.
It is beautiful, to me, and incredibly open and human, not artificial boundaries, and not breaking of actual and important boundaries, that he accepted the cat, and that now you are adopting it. If my x t d**d, I wouldn’t be allowed to attend the funeral, even if I were still hir client and we were on "good" terms. I do know how fortunate I am to have had this t on my side. and he always was. Against insur. turkeys and anyone else who threatened. I wish I knew how to find a t. I’m hoping this guy on friday knows of someone suitable who is taking on mes and will be friendly. I began a list in my journal today, about the things a t has to have.
This is a good idea. I think I will do the same and present it to the person I am currently seeing. I’m also still looking because I don’t have a lot of faith in this new one, who is ten years younger than I, and who barely does anything but sit in front of me. A couple of weeks ago I asked hir if sie could please respond to at least one thing that I say in every session. Sie looked confused and afraid when I said that. Sie didn’t answer me. I am moving along, thinking of things like that to consider, instead of sitting and crying. But minister person says I need to be alone and then cry or whatever.
Yes. Grief requires and forces tears, I think. sometimes I think he is right. I am on alert and behaving right now.
ah, forget it. You’ve just been through a huge and terrible trauma. aS always with people around. I’m meeting with him on WEdnesday. Freaking now about seeing the guy on Friday. No my t to help me prepare for that. I always get terrified to do new things. some of me has’t changed much.
I am the same way. doctors scare me silly.
Oh, yeah, me, too. Can you imagine the wreck I’ve been in having to see so many doctors recently? I have medical appointments about 4 days out of every week. And there is nobody to go with me to any of them, no matter what it is that I am going to be experiencing. One of my choices is to stop working on the DID, and retire from my teaching accepting a much smaller pension than I would have if I hang on seeing a t until 2010. I don’t know what to do.Any ideas from the group would be welcome.
Yeah. I don’t known about this one. Personally, for me, I really want to get the DID and PTSD stuff into some perspective that will permit me to return to work, and otherwise to enjoy a social life. Thank you trilly one for your kindness at this time, and all the times you are kind to me.
I feel that I am the one who should thank you. I’m sorry you are having such a hard time of it. I wish for you the strength that I have in arms and legs and wish it could be shared. jane
That’s an incredibly nice thing to say, jane. I wish for you a comfortable way of coping with your grief, and that you should find another good t. And I repeat to you that I am always available to you, however you want to reach me, to be your friend, to be leaned on, and to listen to you. trill
– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – I am glad that you are able to write, and gladder still that the memorial was, for you, a celebration of this person who has helped you so much. I wish that I had a reason to celebrate help that I had received. I mean, I certainly do not wish anybody to be d**d. I just wish that I had the incredible experience of devotion to you and help that you received. You were a very lucky woman to have had this wonderful to. I hope that you will find another of equal talent and dedication. trill Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
Response:
Thank you Jill. The last lines of what I wrote in his honour are. He gave me permission to live. And I will. Because of him. I truly believe that and the other things I wrote about how he saved me. I am trying to know what to do. I’m finding that each day there is a new question to think about. I began yesterday, in my journal, a list of qualities I want in a new t. I realized today that that is a forward looking step. I don’t always see things for what they are at the time. Sometimes I do later. I know that I need an immense lot of help yet. And I’m trying to hope that the big specialist will have ideas on Friday. I am living. It just feels sometimes as if I don’t know how. Like everything about me was in his head. know what I mean? And if that is gone, then where am I? Hard to explain. I am freaked totally by the thought of starting with someone else. It always freaked me to go to any doctor, still does. And to think about giving anything of me to any new guy is just too awful to comtemplate. don’t know if I can do it. Although today I realized that I did do it with my minister, and I barely had met him. So maybe it can be like that if I find the right person? I thank you once again for your help. jane – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – You say below something like ‘I still don’t know what to do’ I think you do know, just live. Be who/what he helped you to become. Good job with the service, btw. Rainbow Colors (Jill) Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
Response:
Dear Nan, Thank you for these words. I am finding such support here and it is making it a lot easier to go on without him in my life. and he was in my life each day either by post or session. The piece that I wrote in his honour is in the other post here about the celebration of his life. If you are interested. It is literal, as many here will understand. Outsiders would likely think it metaphorical, but it is literal. Thanks to you, Nan for your caring. I’m getting along, hour by hour, and will figure out what to do as I go. No other way that I can see. THere are many missing him. He had a large client base and many will be lost without him. Broken, the m*nister said of some. jane – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Jane, I am glad that you are holding up under all of this and helped to honor your t. I can only imagine how hard it must have been for you to sit down and write about how he was not only a great therapist, but someone who touched lives and made a difference. I imagine that he is missed by many and it was wonderful to help give tribute to such a great man. From your message I can tell that you have that same ability and touched his life as well. Sorry to hear that you have lost such a dear friend. Nan Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
Response:
Jane, I am glad that you are holding up under all of this and helped to honor your t. I can only imagine how hard it must have been for you to sit down and write about how he was not only a great therapist, but someone who touched lives and made a difference. I imagine that he is missed by many and it was wonderful to help give tribute to such a great man. From your message I can tell that you have that same ability and touched his life as well. Sorry to hear that you have lost such a dear friend. Nan – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
Response:
It was a most cherished privilege to be given the gift of presenting a eulogy for my beloved grandmother and for my father. For my grandmother, I had just thought of three events that most characterized her for me – and I just told them as stories. For my father – well – it was much more complex. He and I had quite a history, and had reconciled at the end, for which I am eternally grateful. I sat up into the wee hours of the morning of his funeral writing the words I would read – I knew I would not be able to speak spontaneously, but would need something much more formal, and, anyway, he was a writer, and always wanted me to be. So, I read for him. And, I was the only one in my family, the only one, in either case, who would have wanted or been able to do it for those people – and it was my honor to have been given the strength and the gift of writing and the ability to speak in public. It felt as if I had given back just a bit of all that had been given to me over the years of knowing those people – and felt as if I had encouraged all who heard to preserve the memory of those people, to keep them alive in their hearts. I know you did the same for your ther*pist, jane, and it was a great gift to give. Beauty. – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
Response:
I was most honoured, Ravensong. And the min*ster called this morning to see if I was okay, and to thank me for writing the piece and giving it to him. He felt it important that people heard from his patients as well as from family and friends. I was extremely honoured by this. jane – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – We share your sadness and gr*ef, and are glad that you found the strength to write about, and for, your t. What a wonderful and bl*ssed thing, to have it read at his service! *hugs* Ravensong Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote. "If you feel bad, blow bubble stuff or watch the snails after it rains. That always makes me feel better." – Katy, of Ravensong
Response:
jane and Beauty, Reading this post brought back a memory for me, as well. When my good friend, Ric, d*ed from "complications related to AIDS," I put a packet of poetry and prose that I had written about him through the 16 years of our friendship and put them in a magazine rack at the entrance of the memorial (held at the home where he d*ed, his home) so that each guest could take one. I also included blank pages so that anyone might be inspired and take the opportunity to write something that sie felt and though about Ric. And then several of the poems were read aloud during the memorial. One of the poems is about Ric and I feeding squirrels together in the park. While that one was read a squirrel ran across the yard and up into a tree. No one had ever seen a squirrel in that yard before (having to do with geographic location), and we all stopped everything and it felt as if we collectively held our breath while we stare at that squirrel. Often, now, seven years after Ric’s d**th, when a squirrel comes around a window of mine, I feel Ric’s presence intensely. I don’t know what it is, really, but I like to feel Ric’s presence. jane, I’m certain that your t will visit you in varied and surpirsing ways. I recommend that you keep a journal of the visits., or the triggers of intense memories, or whatever you wish to refer to them as. tender cares and thoughts for you, jane, trill trill
– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – It was a most cherished privilege to be given the gift of presenting a eulogy for my beloved grandmother and for my father. For my grandmother, I had just thought of three events that most characterized her for me – and I just told them as stories. For my father – well – it was much more complex. He and I had quite a history, and had reconciled at the end, for which I am eternally grateful. I sat up into the wee hours of the morning of his funeral writing the words I would read – I knew I would not be able to speak spontaneously, but would need something much more formal, and, anyway, he was a writer, and always wanted me to be. So, I read for him. And, I was the only one in my family, the only one, in either case, who would have wanted or been able to do it for those people – and it was my honor to have been given the strength and the gift of writing and the ability to speak in public. It felt as if I had given back just a bit of all that had been given to me over the years of knowing those people – and felt as if I had encouraged all who heard to preserve the memory of those people, to keep them alive in their hearts. I know you did the same for your ther*pist, jane, and it was a great gift to give. Beauty. Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
Response:
Thank you, beauty for these kind words. I couldn’t read them myself, being too scared and upset, and also needing to protect my anonymity. my min*ster told me someone asked for a copy of it after the service, and he gave them one. Nothing identifying on it, which I did on purpose. I was pleased that it spoke to someone else. I am proud that you were able to do these things for your grandmother and your father. It must have been difficult for you.But, as you say, a gift. jane – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – It was a most cherished privilege to be given the gift of presenting a eulogy for my beloved grandmother and for my father. For my grandmother, I had just thought of three events that most characterized her for me – and I just told them as stories. For my father – well – it was much more complex. He and I had quite a history, and had reconciled at the end, for which I am eternally grateful. I sat up into the wee hours of the morning of his funeral writing the words I would read – I knew I would not be able to speak spontaneously, but would need something much more formal, and, anyway, he was a writer, and always wanted me to be. So, I read for him. And, I was the only one in my family, the only one, in either case, who would have wanted or been able to do it for those people – and it was my honor to have been given the strength and the gift of writing and the ability to speak in public. It felt as if I had given back just a bit of all that had been given to me over the years of knowing those people – and felt as if I had encouraged all who heard to preserve the memory of those people, to keep them alive in their hearts. I know you did the same for your ther*pist, jane, and it was a great gift to give. Beauty. Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
Response:
Dear jane – I am glad, too, that you found a way to make yourself heard, and to give a gift to the one you cared so much for – w/out endangering yourself or attempting to do the impossible. For me, at those particular times, doing what was hard, standing up brave, was part of what I wanted to give – because I could, not because it was impossible for me – difficult, perhaps, but not impossible. Maybe it was vain to put myself forward at those times – maybe just one more mark of my vanity. But – my words were used at least two times again in other written and spoken eulogies to my fthr – so they did seem to capture for some others who he was in life. I still feel sad that so much of our life as fthr and dghtr was spent in alienation (to say the best/least) – but – remain everlastingly thankful that we were able to reconcile in the end. (And I hasten to add – I understand that reconciliation is neither possible nor advisable for everyone. It was for me, and it was possible – so I am grateful.) Thanks for writing back – Beauty. – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Thank you, beauty for these kind words. I couldn’t read them myself, being too scared and upset, and also needing to protect my anonymity. my min*ster told me someone asked for a copy of it after the service, and he gave them one. Nothing identifying on it, which I did on purpose. I was pleased that it spoke to someone else. I am proud that you were able to do these things for your grandmother and your father. It must have been difficult for you.But, as you say, a gift. jane It was a most cherished privilege to be given the gift of presenting a eulogy for my beloved grandmother and for my father. For my grandmother, I had just thought of three events that most characterized her for me – and I just told them as stories. For my father – well – it was much more complex. He and I had quite a history, and had reconciled at the end, for which I am eternally grateful. I sat up into the wee hours of the morning of his funeral writing the words I would read – I knew I would not be able to speak spontaneously, but would need something much more formal, and, anyway, he was a writer, and always wanted me to be. So, I read for him. And, I was the only one in my family, the only one, in either case, who would have wanted or been able to do it for those people – and it was my honor to have been given the strength and the gift of writing and the ability to speak in public. It felt as if I had given back just a bit of all that had been given to me over the years of knowing those people – and felt as if I had encouraged all who heard to preserve the memory of those people, to keep them alive in their hearts. I know you did the same for your ther*pist, jane, and it was a great gift to give. Beauty. Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
Response:
You say below something like ‘I still don’t know what to do’ I think you do know, just live. Be who/what he helped you to become. Good job with the service, btw. Rainbow Colors (Jill) – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
– The colors blend, the edges soften. Swirling and mixing we are becoming white light.
Response:
Ah, jane – to be counted among your friends is a jewel I cherish. Now I’ve used some of my favorite words – including – jane. Beauty. – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – I am grateful for my Writer who was able to write the words for the t in time for the service. And that she has begun to journal longhand. the puter still freaks us somewhat. Can’t look at the posts from my t, although I keep trying to remember what we had been writing about de*th the week before he d*ed. jane who counts Beauty among her very best friends. Dear jane – I am glad, too, that you found a way to make yourself heard, and to give a gift to the one you cared so much for – w/out endangering yourself or attempting to do the impossible. For me, at those particular times, doing what was hard, standing up brave, was part of what I wanted to give – because I could, not because it was impossible for me – difficult, perhaps, but not impossible. Maybe it was vain to put myself forward at those times – maybe just one more mark of my vanity. But – my words were used at least two times again in other written and spoken eulogies to my fthr – so they did seem to capture for some others who he was in life. I still feel sad that so much of our life as fthr and dghtr was spent in alienation (to say the best/least) – but – remain everlastingly thankful that we were able to reconcile in the end. (And I hasten to add – I understand that reconciliation is neither possible nor advisable for everyone. It was for me, and it was possible – so I am grateful.) Thanks for writing back – Beauty. Thank you, beauty for these kind words. I couldn’t read them myself, being too scared and upset, and also needing to protect my anonymity. my min*ster told me someone asked for a copy of it after the service, and he gave them one. Nothing identifying on it, which I did on purpose. I was pleased that it spoke to someone else. I am proud that you were able to do these things for your grandmother and your father. It must have been difficult for you.But, as you say, a gift. jane It was a most cherished privilege to be given the gift of presenting a eulogy for my beloved grandmother and for my father. For my grandmother, I had just thought of three events that most characterized her for me – and I just told them as stories. For my father – well – it was much more complex. He and I had quite a history, and had reconciled at the end, for which I am eternally grateful. I sat up into the wee hours of the morning of his funeral writing the words I would read – I knew I would not be able to speak spontaneously, but would need something much more formal, and, anyway, he was a writer, and always wanted me to be. So, I read for him. And, I was the only one in my family, the only one, in either case, who would have wanted or been able to do it for those people – and it was my honor to have been given the strength and the gift of writing and the ability to speak in public. It felt as if I had given back just a bit of all that had been given to me over the years of knowing those people – and felt as if I had encouraged all who heard to preserve the memory of those people, to keep them alive in their hearts. I know you did the same for your ther*pist, jane, and it was a great gift to give. Beauty. Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
Response:
I am grateful for my Writer who was able to write the words for the t in time for the service. And that she has begun to journal longhand. the puter still freaks us somewhat. Can’t look at the posts from my t, although I keep trying to remember what we had been writing about de*th the week before he d*ed. jane who counts Beauty among her very best friends. – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Dear jane – I am glad, too, that you found a way to make yourself heard, and to give a gift to the one you cared so much for – w/out endangering yourself or attempting to do the impossible. For me, at those particular times, doing what was hard, standing up brave, was part of what I wanted to give – because I could, not because it was impossible for me – difficult, perhaps, but not impossible. Maybe it was vain to put myself forward at those times – maybe just one more mark of my vanity. But – my words were used at least two times again in other written and spoken eulogies to my fthr – so they did seem to capture for some others who he was in life. I still feel sad that so much of our life as fthr and dghtr was spent in alienation (to say the best/least) – but – remain everlastingly thankful that we were able to reconcile in the end. (And I hasten to add – I understand that reconciliation is neither possible nor advisable for everyone. It was for me, and it was possible – so I am grateful.) Thanks for writing back – Beauty. Thank you, beauty for these kind words. I couldn’t read them myself, being too scared and upset, and also needing to protect my anonymity. my min*ster told me someone asked for a copy of it after the service, and he gave them one. Nothing identifying on it, which I did on purpose. I was pleased that it spoke to someone else. I am proud that you were able to do these things for your grandmother and your father. It must have been difficult for you.But, as you say, a gift. jane It was a most cherished privilege to be given the gift of presenting a eulogy for my beloved grandmother and for my father. For my grandmother, I had just thought of three events that most characterized her for me – and I just told them as stories. For my father – well – it was much more complex. He and I had quite a history, and had reconciled at the end, for which I am eternally grateful. I sat up into the wee hours of the morning of his funeral writing the words I would read – I knew I would not be able to speak spontaneously, but would need something much more formal, and, anyway, he was a writer, and always wanted me to be. So, I read for him. And, I was the only one in my family, the only one, in either case, who would have wanted or been able to do it for those people – and it was my honor to have been given the strength and the gift of writing and the ability to speak in public. It felt as if I had given back just a bit of all that had been given to me over the years of knowing those people – and felt as if I had encouraged all who heard to preserve the memory of those people, to keep them alive in their hearts. I know you did the same for your ther*pist, jane, and it was a great gift to give. Beauty. Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
Response:
– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -Hello, all my dear friends here who have been so supportive. You have made a huge difference in my life these last days since my t d*ed. See below the spoiler for update on this story. : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : I did it today. I went to the service and did well. I didn’t break into sobs as I feared I might, and I stayed calm and sang. WEll, mostly. I always cry a little in the hymn they chose, an oldie and one my grandma sang. This morning my Writer finally surfaced and wrote a tribute to my t. Not long, very succinct. Literal, although some listening may have thought it metaphorical. I put it in an envelope and got it delivered to my minister, who is a lovely man, and who spoke with me at length right after the accident. I noted on the envelope that if there were time and if he thought it appropriate, could someone maybe read this. I thought there would be dozens of tributes from patients. I was wrong. The family spoke, relating stories that made us laugh a bit, and which made the t human. His best friend spoke, his daughter and his sister. Then the minister rose and started to talk about the group that might not be heard from, his patients. He introduced it perfectly, sensitively and sweetly. And then he said he had received one note from one of ts patients and that it was short, but powerful. Powerful! what I wrote?! It was the truth only.
Perhaps that was why it was powerful. He read it slowly, carefully, making sure all the words were understood. That was when I nearly lost it. I grabbed the SOs hand and nearly cried. WEll, two tears did fall. His secretary was sitting with us, and she knew I had written this and reached out to me. There was silence when he finished. My SO said tonight that it was wonderful and well written. I hope it was. I wanted the world to know that this man has saved my life. Literally. and you all will understand how a t can do that. Outsiders might not. The service was a very honouring one, and people all saw my t the way I did. He was a genuinely gentle honest man. And he saved my life. And I stood tall with my chin up, and tried to be what he taught me to be. Now the challenge will be to wait until next Friday when I see the specialist. I’m still not knowing what to do.
You wrote in an earlier post, something like this: I’m learning that I know things I didn’t know I knew. My bet is that you do know. You just don’t know yet that you know. Still lots of panic. STill the stomach heaving and sleep not so good. Still I don’t know what to do. jane who thanks so many for their posts and hopes she has answered all who wrote.
Good hunting, jane. (Large or small J, for preference?) Baba Yaga — Personal’s not the same as important. People just think it is. Terry Pratchett.
Response:
[jane wrote] I am adopting his cat, the one I gave to him in November. He had finally agreed excitedly one day when I asked, and he loved her totally. We are picking her up tomorrow.
I’m so glad. This is an excellent thing. It is beautiful, to me, and incredibly open and human, not artificial boundaries, and not breaking of actual and important boundaries, that he accepted the cat, and that now you are adopting it.
I agree. One of my fundamentals, in trusting someone, is how good his boundaries are. If they aren’t good enough for him to be *flexible, I don’t trust him: fixed boundaries, however ‘appropriate’ and ‘professional’, are artificial, and that’s a warning that the real ones aren’t up to the job. Baba Yaga — Personal’s not the same as important. People just think it is. Terry Pratchett.
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