What a thoughtful, brutally honest piece of writing. I wish you moments of joy as you walk the long grief road. And wishing that your sister's soul should have an aliyah.
Thank you for this. I'm 82, just had hip replacement surgery, know that my knees and rotator cuffs are next. My husband's in chronic debilitating pain. I'm doing well post-op. My 2 kids have been here providing support. But it's clear to me we'll need help when they both leave. I've had a great life. I'm grateful for it all. And I'm constantly aware we're in the late November of our days.
Wow, Jane, this was really beautiful -- and sad. You're a poet. I had no idea! I'm so very sorry for your loss. But your words will resonate with me for the rest of the day. I loved the Shabbat candles. A lot of us reach for God and traditions, find it cozy, a sanctuary, when someone dies. And I loved that line from your orthopedist, about how the grieving have a lower threshold for pain. Even that's poetry.
What a thoughtful, brutally honest piece of writing. I wish you moments of joy as you walk the long grief road. And wishing that your sister's soul should have an aliyah.
Thank you. Amen
Beautifully said… this piece is a comfort to me. Especially the last paragraph.
Being in one’s middle 80’s is a quieter time of life.
Thank you so much to Jane for writing it and Alte for sharing it.
I am so grateful that you were comforted by my essay, Barbara. Thank you for letting me know.
Thank you for this. I'm 82, just had hip replacement surgery, know that my knees and rotator cuffs are next. My husband's in chronic debilitating pain. I'm doing well post-op. My 2 kids have been here providing support. But it's clear to me we'll need help when they both leave. I've had a great life. I'm grateful for it all. And I'm constantly aware we're in the late November of our days.
I’m glad you’re doing well post-op, Susan. November is a time for taking count of our blessings, too.
Wow, Jane, this was really beautiful -- and sad. You're a poet. I had no idea! I'm so very sorry for your loss. But your words will resonate with me for the rest of the day. I loved the Shabbat candles. A lot of us reach for God and traditions, find it cozy, a sanctuary, when someone dies. And I loved that line from your orthopedist, about how the grieving have a lower threshold for pain. Even that's poetry.
From you, ahhhh, Caren, thank you.
A moving piece. Thanks.
Thank you.