Oh to hold onto that, and remember it, as Lore wrote in her essay (isn't it wonderful when we come across words that resonate so much with our own circumstances?). And thank you so much, Becky.
Oh so beautiful and so true. It's the small things, as you say that matter so truly and bring simultaneously the most joy and pain. I loved reading this and can really relate as you know. Whilst sorting my Dad's clothes, it was the pack of half eaten Extra Strong mints we found in his best blazer. He always used to crunch in the church and pass them around during the service! It was as though they were there waiting for him once more. Thank you as always for your beautiful, healing words xx
Oh Fiona, you are absolutely, 100% spot on.... the Extra Strong Mints!! Reading your words, we're all right there with you, as you make the discovery. And the picture of him crunching and sharing them in church! Priceless and precious beyond words. A truly beautiful moment, what a privilege to have you share it with us. Thank thank, thank you. So much love.
Oh Jenni, you’ve stirred up much within me. Much. Sorrow, regret, anger, happiness, and unsolved feelings. I’m glad you did this for me. I needed to read this. “It’s going to be ok.” Your quotes are perfect, and I have saved them. I’m working on a part of my memoir about my childhood home. I’m calling that part “Excavation.” Excavating has been hard, but necessary work for me. Then, yesterday, I found a piece written by my father about his childhood home, one I never visited because they moved from it when he was about ten. He had even drawn a map of the neighborhood as he describe what was where, and who lived in each house. That neighborhood is not far from me, but it has been mostly repurposed as a highway, so I can’t go over and see what it was like, but I can read his memory of it. I think it is best to remember how it was for us when we inhabited those spaces that were so dear to us because time does change them.
I wondering about the pen. That really touched me! Why didn’t he take it with him? What did you do with it? I so hope you kept it.
Sending love and thanking you for this lovely post. Truly it has touched me deeply and actually helped to heal some hurt that I have felt about the dispersement of all that was the home in which my mother lived that still contained memories of so much of my life. Hugs.
There are no words, Sally, to express how much this means—that you would share about what you're writing, in your memoir, right now (an Accident of Time for sure, how amazing is that when it happens?) and how everything crossed over. And that your father even drew a map of the neighbourhood!! I feel like we should let James K A Smith read your comment, and I wholeheartedly recommend you read his book!! It's extraordinary.
Your choice of word "Excavation" in coming to this stage of your writing is a powerful one, I love it and I'm going to think about that one, I know (I am going to write THAT down!). Oh, I so want to hear more. Look forward very much to (and reading!).
Truly, thank you—and, about the pen: it floored me to find it. I think, I pray, we kept it. So much is a little fuzzy around the edges, because it felt so surreal and Will was wonderful in stepping in when it got too much and I couldn't decide, almost froze with emotion. But I think we did. I'll get back to you on it.
Rereading this as I go through the same process. One of the most painful experiences I’ve ever had. This is the only thing I’ve read about the subject that I’ve connected with. Thank you :)
I don’t have words for how much this means, Fiona, in terms of your kindness in letting me know this—but, moreover, that it would bring even the smallest, slightest comfort/connection in the midst of the grief and hardness of it all. There really are no words. You know how much I understand. Sending so, so very much love. And thank you, so much. ❤️
Lovely words.
Thank you, so much.
It's going to be okay. Beautifully written as usual, Jen 💖
Oh to hold onto that, and remember it, as Lore wrote in her essay (isn't it wonderful when we come across words that resonate so much with our own circumstances?). And thank you so much, Becky.
Oh so beautiful and so true. It's the small things, as you say that matter so truly and bring simultaneously the most joy and pain. I loved reading this and can really relate as you know. Whilst sorting my Dad's clothes, it was the pack of half eaten Extra Strong mints we found in his best blazer. He always used to crunch in the church and pass them around during the service! It was as though they were there waiting for him once more. Thank you as always for your beautiful, healing words xx
Oh Fiona, you are absolutely, 100% spot on.... the Extra Strong Mints!! Reading your words, we're all right there with you, as you make the discovery. And the picture of him crunching and sharing them in church! Priceless and precious beyond words. A truly beautiful moment, what a privilege to have you share it with us. Thank thank, thank you. So much love.
So beautiful ❤️❤️❤️❤️
Thank you so much, Natalie!
Oh Jenni, you’ve stirred up much within me. Much. Sorrow, regret, anger, happiness, and unsolved feelings. I’m glad you did this for me. I needed to read this. “It’s going to be ok.” Your quotes are perfect, and I have saved them. I’m working on a part of my memoir about my childhood home. I’m calling that part “Excavation.” Excavating has been hard, but necessary work for me. Then, yesterday, I found a piece written by my father about his childhood home, one I never visited because they moved from it when he was about ten. He had even drawn a map of the neighborhood as he describe what was where, and who lived in each house. That neighborhood is not far from me, but it has been mostly repurposed as a highway, so I can’t go over and see what it was like, but I can read his memory of it. I think it is best to remember how it was for us when we inhabited those spaces that were so dear to us because time does change them.
I wondering about the pen. That really touched me! Why didn’t he take it with him? What did you do with it? I so hope you kept it.
Sending love and thanking you for this lovely post. Truly it has touched me deeply and actually helped to heal some hurt that I have felt about the dispersement of all that was the home in which my mother lived that still contained memories of so much of my life. Hugs.
There are no words, Sally, to express how much this means—that you would share about what you're writing, in your memoir, right now (an Accident of Time for sure, how amazing is that when it happens?) and how everything crossed over. And that your father even drew a map of the neighbourhood!! I feel like we should let James K A Smith read your comment, and I wholeheartedly recommend you read his book!! It's extraordinary.
Your choice of word "Excavation" in coming to this stage of your writing is a powerful one, I love it and I'm going to think about that one, I know (I am going to write THAT down!). Oh, I so want to hear more. Look forward very much to (and reading!).
Truly, thank you—and, about the pen: it floored me to find it. I think, I pray, we kept it. So much is a little fuzzy around the edges, because it felt so surreal and Will was wonderful in stepping in when it got too much and I couldn't decide, almost froze with emotion. But I think we did. I'll get back to you on it.
The BIGGEST hugs back.
Rereading this as I go through the same process. One of the most painful experiences I’ve ever had. This is the only thing I’ve read about the subject that I’ve connected with. Thank you :)
I don’t have words for how much this means, Fiona, in terms of your kindness in letting me know this—but, moreover, that it would bring even the smallest, slightest comfort/connection in the midst of the grief and hardness of it all. There really are no words. You know how much I understand. Sending so, so very much love. And thank you, so much. ❤️