Giving thanks....

[gerisullivan]

That trick-or-treating meme result looks awfully dated at the top of my LiveJournal; below is something of an odd tale about something I'm thankful for.

But first, a quick update: still no sale at Toad Hall, though there have been more showings in the last two weeks than in any period since it went on the market. Fingers firmly crossed, knocking wood, and All That Jazz!

And now, giving thanks...

Kim Campbell's funeral was Tuesday. I picked up a brightly-colored, enamelled pony totem in memory of her spirit, as see on rasff in January 2000:
Kim's pony post. I found a "being there" place to be other than at the funeral itself, as a trip to York was beyond the reach of various available resources. I figured out something I could do at the time, and I got through the day.That's all I asked of the day.

"Being there" seems to be hardwired into me. I didn't know it when my paternal grandfather died in 1972 -- I actively didn't want to be there, and used the excuse of needing to be in college classes to avoid his funeral. Remembering him during quiet walk along the river was what I wanted to do, and so I did...only to discover that didn't work nearly as I expected it would, and that I really needed to have gone to his funeral. Too late.

Grandpa Waldo's funeral was not the first in my life, but it was the first one I chose to miss. Only to learn that choice was the wrong one for me. The balance point has never swung the other way -- there hasn't been a funeral I attended where being there proved to be the wrong choice. Problems only seem to emerge when I can't be at a particular funeral, especially one that falls within my family, self-identified as well as by birth. If I know when the funeral is (and I *want* to know those details), I need something specific to do at that exact time, something that will meet enough of my emotional needs and help me process the grief.

I'm still learning what's likely to work in that regard, and what isn't. When Chuch Harris died in the summer of 1999, I thought that following through with my plans to attend Baggiecon and the Winnipeg Folk Festival would work, that standing out on the Manitoba prairie, listening to music, and being with friends would be an okay place, a good place, even, since I couldn't be at his funeral in England.

I was wrong that time. The pain of being in the wrong place magnified my grief, and has contributed to my subsequent 4-year absence from Baggiecon.

Later that summer, James White died, and, once again, I didn't make the trip overseas for the funeral. My passport had expired, getting it replaced in time seemed problematic. Et cetera. But that time, the trip I already had planned was to Anaheim, the last place James and I had seen each other on this continent. When the funeral was taking place in Northern Ireland, I was walking the halls where we'd shared so much fun at L.A.con III. He'd been GoH at that Worldcon, and revisiting the place he'd been honored was my way of honoring and remembering him while the funeral services took place 8000+ miles away.

That worked. And it showed me that substitute places or activities can work, much as my heart tells me to be at the funeral itself. The experience of the two events, fewer than eight weeks apart, showed me the importance of figuring out the right substitute.

I'm thankful my head and heart came up with something that seems to have worked this time around. I hope it's a long, long time before I'm faced with figuring out another one.

I'm even more thankful for the friendship Kim and I shared.

I miss her. I grieve.

And I extend my thanks to the multitude of friends looking out for and supporting me at this time as well as in times of celebration and joy.

Comments

[lysana.livejournal.com]

*hugs*

Thank you for sharing that.