Thank you for this, Sofia. It is quite timely for me, as yesterday I learned that the son of a close friend of mine died by suicide earlier in the week, seemingly as the result of undiagnosed severe mental illness. I suppose I've had no choice but to let my body lead my grieving, as trying to process what happened rationally leads me nowhere, except to a raging anxiety. As a tangent, I've been thinking about story, and how familiar narratives can help us make sense of painful events. This situation is completely unfamiliar to me, so I've had no narrative to lean on, yet this morning I found myself writing about it--in a letter to my friend, the mother--and found myself leaning on love as a framework for the days ahead and the understanding that will, hopefully, eventually, emerge.
Oh Lillian! I have no words when faced with the death of a young person and which (possibly) was avoidable. I hope that your letter will some comfort to both of you in these difficult times. Hugs to you XX.
Thank you for sharing this Sofia. I thought about it a few times after you mentioned it on Monday. when I was 10, my little sister asked for a chick. I did not like the idea because I was not comfortable with animals. when it died, my mom was surprised to find me crying more than my sister. in a sense, it was the first time I saw the reality and vicinity of death.
Dear Azadeh, thank you for thinking of me, and for sharing your childhood memory. There is some loss of innocence at the first experience of death close to you. Little birds, I find, are especially moving, like embodied little souls. Three weeks on I am still thinking about it: today a pink-red rose has blossomed over its grave.
thank you Sofia, I too have had to learn the cues from my body and I was brought to tears like you upon reading about the death of the little bird. What a beautiful story, thank you for sharing.
A poignant, beautiful story Sofia; strikes me that encouraging our hearts and minds to experience life at its rawest is like some kind a dance. Whilst thinking through the process of timing is important, to feel and respond to the tempo through our bones is how we reveal meanings to ourselves and others.
Thank you for your sensitive response and your kind words, Becca. You've expressed it so well: the body signals what I need, if I listen to it. Only I am still one step behind, trying to decode its messages - thank you for reading!
Timely for me as well. My dear friend of 35 years got her wings yesterday. She fought a valiant battle, her goal to have a bone marrow transplant. Her treatments weakened her too much and she couldn’t recover. It seems so unfair. She was needed by her daughter and grandchildren. She was so loved and never got to experience old age.
A beautiful moving story. Thank you. It reminded me of the Mexican Film Amores Perros, in which a former assassin can only begin to mourn human deaths when he is forced to mourn the deaths of his beloved dogs.
Thank you for sharing this Sofia. I think I need to listen to my body too, or learn to. I know I don't because my body responds and I'm often shocked by how it responds.
Thank you for this, Sofia. It is quite timely for me, as yesterday I learned that the son of a close friend of mine died by suicide earlier in the week, seemingly as the result of undiagnosed severe mental illness. I suppose I've had no choice but to let my body lead my grieving, as trying to process what happened rationally leads me nowhere, except to a raging anxiety. As a tangent, I've been thinking about story, and how familiar narratives can help us make sense of painful events. This situation is completely unfamiliar to me, so I've had no narrative to lean on, yet this morning I found myself writing about it--in a letter to my friend, the mother--and found myself leaning on love as a framework for the days ahead and the understanding that will, hopefully, eventually, emerge.
Oh Lillian! I have no words when faced with the death of a young person and which (possibly) was avoidable. I hope that your letter will some comfort to both of you in these difficult times. Hugs to you XX.
Thank you, Sofia. XX to you
Thank you for sharing this Sofia. I thought about it a few times after you mentioned it on Monday. when I was 10, my little sister asked for a chick. I did not like the idea because I was not comfortable with animals. when it died, my mom was surprised to find me crying more than my sister. in a sense, it was the first time I saw the reality and vicinity of death.
Dear Azadeh, thank you for thinking of me, and for sharing your childhood memory. There is some loss of innocence at the first experience of death close to you. Little birds, I find, are especially moving, like embodied little souls. Three weeks on I am still thinking about it: today a pink-red rose has blossomed over its grave.
thank you Sofia, I too have had to learn the cues from my body and I was brought to tears like you upon reading about the death of the little bird. What a beautiful story, thank you for sharing.
Anne, I am so pleased that my story resonated with you! Thank you for your kind words.
A poignant, beautiful story Sofia; strikes me that encouraging our hearts and minds to experience life at its rawest is like some kind a dance. Whilst thinking through the process of timing is important, to feel and respond to the tempo through our bones is how we reveal meanings to ourselves and others.
Thank you so much 🙏
Thank you for your sensitive response and your kind words, Becca. You've expressed it so well: the body signals what I need, if I listen to it. Only I am still one step behind, trying to decode its messages - thank you for reading!
Timely for me as well. My dear friend of 35 years got her wings yesterday. She fought a valiant battle, her goal to have a bone marrow transplant. Her treatments weakened her too much and she couldn’t recover. It seems so unfair. She was needed by her daughter and grandchildren. She was so loved and never got to experience old age.
Oh Marian, so sorry to hear about your friend! May you live a long life to keep her memory alive.
A beautiful moving story. Thank you. It reminded me of the Mexican Film Amores Perros, in which a former assassin can only begin to mourn human deaths when he is forced to mourn the deaths of his beloved dogs.
C Lou thank you for reading and for your comment. I remember when the film Amores Perros came out, but didn't see. I'll look it up.
Thank you for sharing this Sofia. I think I need to listen to my body too, or learn to. I know I don't because my body responds and I'm often shocked by how it responds.