« the details will be different | Main | et la vie stupide continue »

29 July 2011

TrackBack

TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://www.typepad.com/services/trackback/6a00e5519a1c368834014e8a36d1f5970d

Listed below are links to weblogs that reference the heart of the wise is in the house of mourning:

Comments

Feed You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.

Dan

This is a wonderfully eloquent post about an experience that is hard to describe. Thanks for writing it. I hoped that you were doing all right, and I'm glad that you are gradually rejoining the world of the living.

Joe Clark

You are irrevocably transformed and your mother is gone.

You still have us.

Jérôme

Things won't never come back to normal. You, your brother, your father, are transformed. And as you're not forgetting her, she won't be gone, even if you'll miss her.

6 months after my companion's father died, his wife organised a meeting for family and friends, a kind of party. We sat in the garden and everyone touched by the ball we, one after, lend, has to tell a story about him.
It was really beautiful and peaceful. A part of the mourning and remembrance.

blindman

I can guarantee that you will not forget your mother, nor will any of us who follow your blog.

Birdie

Sweetheart, life will never be normal again. It keeps moving on, with or without you, but you are changed. Your mother will come to mind through the years at moments you wish for her comfort or company or wisdom. Not all sad, but of course many will be. You will always carry her with you.

I have lost almost all of 1996 from memory, with the exception of five visits with my dying brother. Little else remains, the fire of desperate memories having burned the rest away. Keep writing. You may come back to it and read it as new. Move through all the emotions and own it as your right. Do what you need to do, including nothing at all.

And bless Sts. Asaph and Joan.

myozen

Dear Jason -- a beautiful and heart-felt piece. It brought back memories of my own parents' deaths -- something that happens only one time each, and forever life-altering. Thanks for your clear and wise reflections.

Rob

But let me reveal to you a wonderful secret. We will not all die, but we will all be transformed. It will happen in a moment, in the blink of an eye, when the last trumpet is blown. For when the trumpet sounds, those who have died will be raised to live forever. And we who are living will also be transformed.

Doug K

I appreciate the thoughtfulness with which you write, all the more so in this moving post. I knew you when I was at your parish, though not well, and am thinking of you in your time of loss, and of course have no words. Bless Sts. Joan and Asaph -- they are angels.

Verify your Comment

Previewing your Comment

This is only a preview. Your comment has not yet been posted.

Working...
Your comment could not be posted. Error type:
Your comment has been posted. Post another comment

The letters and numbers you entered did not match the image. Please try again.

As a final step before posting your comment, enter the letters and numbers you see in the image below. This prevents automated programs from posting comments.

Having trouble reading this image? View an alternate.

Working...

Post a comment