Sometimes…
Sometimes you have an affection for an inanimate object far beyond what can be explained. Sometimes that thing has meaning and symbolism in it that no-one else sees. Sometimes you pretend to yourself it doesn’t matter because it is just an inanimate object, and an imperfect one at that. Only you understand its value, nobody else notices.
Sometimes you lose the object. Sometimes you grieve. Big deep belly sobs, pacing the floor anguish. Obsessing the mind with its loss for days. Powerlessness is the theme of your life as you consider how you could have changed what is now unchangeable.
Sometimes you lose many things in a short time. Lose a friend (who must be mourned), lose the best summer of your life, lose an inanimate object? And the losses, though unequal, roll up into one big ball which is impossible to swallow whole… and which makes it hard to go forward.
But it’s just an inanimate object. If only I could tell my heart and mind to shut up…
I have so much work to do. I don’t have time for this.
October 6th, 2008 at 12:44 pm
Well, you know I know exactly what you’re talking about, since I am still mourning the loss of my very special car. Yesterday there was one exactly like it (same limited edition in the beautiful bright green) at the cider mill where we were enjoying the day thanks to my husband’s company event there. The car was parked there all day, taunting me. Even though it was a very limited edition, and very few in Michigan…there it was. Right at the end of a row where I couldn’t miss seeing it. Over and over. In a parking lot with hundreds of cars. Ouch.
My new car means little to me, emotionally. Mike pointed out it’s first dent (looks like a wayward shopping cart at work) and it didn’t phase me. Every tiny little scratch or dent (and especially the bigger ones!) on my Yarnbox pained me so much because I loved that car. It was special to me. It was part of my identity. But I feel nothing for this new car except that it is transportation, and it’s a pretty color.
Even when I see another xB that is not the limited edition, in one of the boring non-colors, it still makes my heart hurt a little.
Yes, it was a car. Not a person, not a pet. A car. But I loved that car, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
So whatever your loss is today, I am sorry. And I understand.
Hugs to you….
October 6th, 2008 at 3:20 pm
Oh my…how I can relate. It seems as though my losses and my reactions are always out of sync. Understand.
A few years ago, I lost my sister, my mother-in-law and my best friend’s husband, all in 9 weeks. I was the stoic, the glue that held everyone together.
Three weeks later, I broke an old Christmas ornament and lost it. Totally. No one every understood until today, when I know you do.
Yes, we are too busy for this. Isn’t it grand that we can feel such grief. If we coudn’t, how could we know the joy in our lives?
Wipe your nose on your sleeve and smile.
Jan
October 6th, 2008 at 3:48 pm
Oh sweetie - big hug. You express things in ways that I can totally identify with, we’ve all been there. But you’re there now, and I hope it gets better.
October 7th, 2008 at 9:10 am
Let it out, let it flow.
Honor your grief, hon.
The things you mourn deserve the time, and you will be better for it after it passes.
October 8th, 2008 at 11:38 pm
Oh dear - reminds me of when I broke, not lost, Mum’s Mixing Bowl. *The* mixing bowl, the best one ever! I hope whatever it is, it reappears in your life soon!
(Maybe get some happy yarn out and play with it?)