Wash ,'Our Mrs. Reynolds'
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, butt kicking, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
The time zone thing is magic, and saved my ass countless times. Especially since my territory is mostly in the Central, Mountain and Pacific time zones.
I think I'm starting to get zen about the whole thing. I'm finally starting to let go of all of the crap I found out after and just appreciate when it was good. In the end, none of it matters anyway. There's no closure with this.
What They Said about hard days.
Yeah, I don't believe in closure, personally.
I just realized that the counter in the little kitchenette here is short - below my waist and I am pretty short. Probably a drag for my call co-workers, but nice for me! No wonder I don't mind washing dishes here as much as I do at home.
Speaking of bad anniversaries, the second anniversary of Hurricane Sandy is coming up, which makes me realize my tag line,
"Did you ever have one of those days where everything you loved as a child was under water?" - Jon Stewart
is now two years old. I should probably do something about that.
There's no closure with this.
Just Moving On. "I'm a stranger here myself."
I'm finally starting to let go of all of the crap I found out after and just appreciate when it was good. In the end, none of it matters anyway.
Brava! That is truly an accomplishment.
Yeah, I don't believe in closure, personally.
Me neither. I'm not even convinced it's desirable. I do think there's a place where grief can become more like a touchstone, but there is too much of who we are, who we once were, in grief to expect it to just go away.
Although I may complain about work being harrrrd, I did just have an encounter where some people were rolling on by me with a cart and flagged me down to offer, "Dim sum?" I responded with an enthusiastic, "Absolutely!"
Thanks shrift, now I realize what my workplace has been sorely missing -- dim sum carts!
Who I am today is inextricably tied into who I was then, with him. I can wish to have never met him, but that means I'm not the person I am right now, and I like her (for maybe the first time in a long time).
The grief in the immediate aftermath was like a sharp knife, cutting me into ribbons. It's still there, but more like a butter knife, blunted but still having the ability to cut if the conditions are right.
Connie's right, just moving on. What else is there to do?
Ah, Maria, I'm sorry things are painful and hard.