I agree. Buffistas have saved my sanity too many times for me to tell of it.

Collectively, you support each other. Individually, you permit others the honor of supporting you.

If I still cross-stitched, I'd totally put this on a sampler.

Given that it's the Buffistas, better, perhaps, to just have it embroidered on corsets.

Maria, you are in my thoughts. I've been there far too recently, though I suspect I had more of an emotional remove. If you do need to run away for a bit, you know where I am. And I'll do my best you have that breathing space so that you can go home again.

{{{{{Maria}}}}}}}

I wish I knew what else to say, other than I will be keeping you and your family in my thoughts.

I'm scared that if I can't bear this pain now and it's just my uncle, what's going to happen when it's my father, or mother, or sister, or husband? I will break, and I won't be able to put myself together again.

Several other, wise people said very smart things. I'll also add, in all seriousness, that sometimes drugs help, too. I got through my dad's last days and the following ceremonies and organization and whatnot with the help of friends, family, screaming into a pillow, and Xanax. While not everyone needs all of these, I think each can have a place. Drugs didn't stop me from feeling, but they helped me keep it together while I needed to do other things, and then fall apart in a safe, private place.

I am sorry about your uncle's prognosis.

When my dad was dying in the ICU, we were all frayed to bits. I was staying with my mom, and I would tell her I was going to bed around 8pm every night, but it was just that I REALLY needed to get away from everyone by the end of the day. I laid in bed every night and read Notes From a Small Island. Bill Bryson saved my sanity during that last stretch. I lived in that book like it was a desert island in the ocean.

There's something in Erin's post that reminds me of an Emily Dickinson poem, one of my favorites, and one I think of often when life gets hard. Number 419 (I hope I get the breaks right):

We grow accustomed to the Dark--
When Light is put awway--
As when the Neighbor holds the Lamp
To withness her Goodbye--

A Moment--We uncertain step
For newness of the night--
Then--fit our Vision to the Dark--
And meet the Road --erect--

And so of larger --Darknesses--
Those Evenings of the Brain--
When not a Moon disclose a sign--
Or Star--come out--within--

The Bravest--grope a little--
And sometimes hit a Tree
Directly in the Forehead--
But as they learn to see--

Either the Darkness alters--
Or something in the sight
Adjusts itself to Midnight--
And Life steps almost straight.

{{{Maria}}} Thinking of you.

~ma to all who need it. Sadly, I barely keep up around here anymore. My newly walking boy takes all of my time! [link] [link]

aw, geez, GC! That's A LOT of cute!

Oh, Glam... he looks so PROUD!