La versión en español está después de la versión en inglés.
I’ve been in a funk lately and, although I know the world is in a serious mess right now and I’ve been losing sleep over it, there was something different about this particular funk. As many of you know, I live with clinical depression. This funk was a bit like I was coming into one of my dark times, but not exactly. I couldn’t figure out what was going on in my head.
Then yesterday, I read Boud’s latest post on Field and Fen. Boud was having tough times herself and finally realized that her mother’s birthday had just passed. The subconscious has a mind of its own. At that moment, I looked at the date on my screen and realized the anniversary of my sister Dale’s death was Saturday.
As Steven Wright said:
“I need one of those baby monitors from my subconscious to my conscious so I can know what the hell I’m really thinking about.”
Today is the anniversary of Dale’s funeral. She died five months before I met San Geraldo. She would have adored him. Forty-five years later, it still sometimes hurts. Here’s a link to the first story I told about Dale on this blog. Significantly more of my life has been lived without her than with her, and yet she remains at the heart of everything.
He estado de bajón últimamente y, aunque sé que el mundo es un desastre y me ha quitado el sueño, había algo diferente en este bajón en particular. Como muchos saben, vivo con depresión clínica. Este bajón era como si estuviera entrando en una de mis épocas más oscuras, pero no exactamente. No podía entender qué pasaba por mi cabeza.
Entonces ayer, leí el post más reciente de Boud en su blog Field and Fen y me di cuenta de lo que estaba pasando. Boud también lo estaba pasando mal y finalmente se dio cuenta de que el cumpleaños de su madre acababa de pasar. El subconsciente tiene mente propia. En ese momento, miré la fecha en la pantalla y me di cuenta de que el aniversario de la muerte de mi hermana Dale era el sábado.
Como dijo Steven Wright:
«Necesito uno de esos monitores de bebé que pasan de mi subconsciente a mi consciente para poder saber en qué diablos estoy pensando realmente.»
Hoy es el aniversario del funeral de Dale. Murió cinco meses antes de que conociera a San Geraldo. Ella lo habría adorado. Cuarenta y cinco años después, a veces todavía duele. Aquí tienen un enlace a la primera historia que conté sobre Dale en este blog. He vivido mucho más tiempo de mi vida sin ella que con ella, y sin embargo, ella sigue siendo el centro de todo.
Click the thumbnails to enlarge.
Haz clic en las miniaturas para ampliar.
Thinking of you. X Mary
Mary:
Thanks!
Hugs to you today.
Debra:
Always nice to receive.
Hugs from afar, sometimes knowing, helps.
David:
Thanks. Hugs back to you!
This is all so true. I’ve lived much longer without my mom than with her, but she’s still very real to me. That’s a lovely tribute to your sister. Boud
Boud:
Those early years stay with us — for better and worse.
Having just gone through Fuckuary, which could even be called Funkuary, where it seemed every few days was the anniversary of a loved one passing, I feel your pain. Not a day goes by that they don’t enter my consciousness.
As I’ve said before, Dale sounds like a wonderful human, and you were lucky to have had her even if it wasn’t long enough.
HUGS.
Bob:
I guess March is my Fuckuary.
I raise a toast to “absent friends”. Memories and grief both fade with time, but they never leave. Jx
Jon:
I try to not let the memories fade. So glad the grief does. There was a time when I thought I wouldn’t survive it.
Warm hugs coming your way………
Jim:
Thanks so much.
What a force she was! And what a beauty. From baby to woman, you can see the way she must have changed the very air around her to be sharper, clearer, more alive. I would say something banal like, “Oh, you are so lucky you had her for the time you did,” and of course you are but that’s ridiculous. You should have had her ALL this time. And not just in your heart and soul.
Loving you from afar.
Ms. Moon
Thank you, Mary Moon! You would have liked each other.
Sometimes people aren’t meant to be here very long. They shine too brightly.
ellen abbott:
For me, she was the brightest.
Oh, my dear Mitchell, what a delight it is to see more photos of Dale, and to re-read that 2011 post (I’m sure that I must have read it before?). I spent time looking at each of the photos, and my favorite is the one at the beach, with her hair blowing to one side (what a great photo)… she looked like Joan Baez in that one! So statuesque– that’s the first thing I said, out loud… wow, she’s tall! It warms my heart to see her, every time.
I can relate to your pain. Our memories are beautiful gifts… mine, lately, have been so strong and they bring a physical response, and I lose myself in them. No wonder yours affect you so, when you don’t even realize it.
Judy C:
You have every bit of my heart and I’m so grateful for your kindness.
Hugs, Scoot.
Deedles:
Oh, I needed a hug from you! Thanks. Always thinking of you.
Any time, Scoot. I’m always here. It’s just that as I ‘m entering my seventh decade I’m have a real hard time reading certain fonts and I get exasperated with myself. I may not comment as often but I’m still around.
How lucky to have had someone with such a life force in your life. What a huge loss, especially at a young age, to have it leave. The enduring absence is so, so strong, palpable even. Glad you could identify the source of the current funk, and share such good memories of Dale. Olivia
Olivia:
It still amazes me how much the center of my universe she was when we were growing up. I think I was the same for her in those early years.
A lovely post, Mitchell. I empathize.
Kelly:
Thanks. She was a wonder.
. “Significantly more of my life has been lived without her than with her, and yet she remains at the heart of everything.”
It’s those first few decades that burn in your memory the most.
Kirk:
You’re so right.
It’s your subconscious telling you, especially when it comes to such anniversaries, that you are loved. Embrace it.
Rade:
The memories are now so sweet.
I’ve been in a hibernation-like torpor/funk for most of the winter too, but now we’re getting bright sunshine and near 0 C temps every other day. I love flinging wide my windows and patio door to flood the place with fresh, cold air!
Traumatic anniversaries bubble up when you least expect them, acknowledge them and go hug the stuffing outta Moose & Dudo.
With big bunny hugs,
Tundra