I woke at about 5 this morning , intensely aware of how comfortable i was, in my warm, soft fleece nest, wallowing, reveling, in my sensual pleasure. Barely awake, i sat up, (also aware of the unconscious ease with which I did that)—and there, perfectly framed by my bedside window, floated the huge, nearly-full moon, the warm bright yellow it assumes only when rising and setting. i gasped in pleasure and wonder and i thought, Thank you God.
I was intensely overwhelmed by the pleasures and benisons of mortal existence. Not that i havent already lived quite a long time.
But morning mourning is the sharpest. Where is my darling now? Her only physical remains, the pulverized-bone fragments we poetically call ”ashes” — i know where those are: I who brought them home. Those can’t feel warmth, see brightness. Oh how i pray there’s also, or at least, nothing left which can feel cold, darkness! How totally undeserving am I, to still be taking my pleasure, absolutely guzzling it in!
Yet Im here, for the present, and she’s…not. “Not” is all we know.
Im not worthy to have outlived her, dont deserve even a slightly longer span of life, of pleasure.
But to paraphrase the Preacher:
“Better a living bitch than a dead lioness.”
ST UnWoked & UnVaxxed! 
Thank you for this, Hypatia. We are here.
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Hugs, Hypatia! Please don’t stay in this mode too long; you are both unique and unrepeatable. The world needs the gifts given to and shared by both of you. Borrowing from the film “Taking Chance”, you are now her witness in the world. Her gifts can and must be shared. You can do this in a way no one else can. *When you’re ready*, carry her forward, as only you can. Meanwhile, you are worth the time it takes! And: What JaC said! With more hugs!
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When my parents died, I found myself thinking, in turn, “Now, I AM her”; “Now , I AM him”.
But a parent is on the rung above you, you are their “issue”, they poured themselves out into you. A sibling, though, has always been beside you, you are like a book, always TWO pages, side by side. A sibling close in age is your first “other”. I can’t become her, as you say; she is unrepeatable.
“No morning but some heart doth break…”
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True enough, but sibs form each other in daily life, so there’s a bit of each and all in us; especially when you shared a room, etc. I meant sharing with others the bits of her that rubbed off on you. Not ‘becoming’ but ‘bearing’ her to others – and yourself. More hugs!
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What Nanda said!
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Don’t let survivor’s guilt make a claim on your present self.
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“Don’t let survivors guilt make a claim on your present self.”
WISDOM from our ST!
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Thanks to you all . I have got to stop feeling so sorry for me.
I think it was Grace Paley who wrote, “It is important to remain cheerful, for the sake of younger people who may have begun to suspect.”
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“I have got to stop feeling so sorry for me.”
No, not that other extreme either. Just feel sorry for yourself when it has minimum impact on your dearest loved ones.
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Yes, I think that is exactly what Paley was saying. Thos3 who love and/or depend on you wanna believe you’re okay, that EVERYTHING is okay. It’s always an illusion, the abyss yawns at our feet, but I reckon either you fall in ,or you cheerfully pretend you dont believe it or even SEE it.
“Cheer”, the demeanor of quotidian happiness, is vastly underrated. Yeah it’s shallow, but only something light and shallow can stay afloat on the ‘sea of troubles”.
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Maybe find a good bartender with a tender ear and tip him well after bending his ear?
I heard many a sob story when I was bartending.
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Well, Simon, no bartender, but I AM sitting here on my hearth, drinking red from my ST Unleashed mug. And every time I look over, it’s empty..
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Bubbly with OJ for breakfast. It has a name so you don’t sound like a complete “Otis” when these become your morning go to drink.
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