Up the road or down, sometimes further afield, often not for long, we're out most days.
Lucy, what are those lines from? They sound familiar, yet aren't.Wish I were near to offer/give you a hug. Seems so little to give, a very small comfort, in face of so deep a loss.
Lucy, I found it. Eliot's poem, "Marina."
Thanks for coming here Martha, and leaving this. I wanted to contact you to thank you for the lovely post you wrote about Joe, which was in fact the first news I had of it, but can't seem to find an e-mail address for you, though I didn't want to break in on your period of retreat, for which I have great respect and admiration. Your hug is gratefully accepted; this is hard. I know the loss isn't mine exclusively, or even primarily, but oh, it hurts all the same.The thrush really was singing through the fog. I'd just been rereading 'Marina'.
Lucy, my email is sofie dot onecrow at gmail dot com.I am so sorry you heard of Joe's death through my blog. I had just read it on Robbie's earlier that morning.I turned off comments to that post because I didn't want it to be about me in any way. What I didn't think about was that this is how we console each other in sad times (and, dammit! it is sad), how we give and receive comfort to/from those to whom we are connected, no matter how ethereal that connection might be.We humans forge connections without realizing it, made no less real by distance or never meeting. I am sad for the loss of the connection I felt I had to Joe, but I weep in empathy for what those of you who shared time and conversations, love and a spirituality with him.Of course, it hurts, Lucy - how could it not?I'm glad you can comfort and be comforted by his children and his brother. That will help all of you through this time of broken hearts.Take care, friend.Love,Martha
Martha, I'll e-mail.
Sorry Martha, just wrote but it bounced back. Can you e-mail me so I can reply and resend it? email@example.com
On it's way.
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