Posted by Journeyman on January 7, 2004, at 21:57:08
In reply to land of the dropped R (or, the dropped ah), posted by reluctant on January 7, 2004, at 19:46:07
Born in Dexter, grew up in Sangerville - a very small town right next to it. Had a sister who lived in Freeport for many years and I used to go there a lot when I was a teenager. Also, my family used to go to Popham Beach (Phippsburg, near Bath) every summer. I love the Maine coast. Summer/fall are great too. Then there are the stars, thousands, which are visible at night; lots of water for swimming, canoeing. I guess there's actually a lot I miss.
Losing my Dad was surprisingly difficult. Beyond the filial attachment, there's a very deep cosmic attachment that I was wholly unaware of, in spite of imagining life without him. When you lose a parent, (at least in my experience) it's as though there's suddenly a literal hole in the universe. Something that has been, at least existentially, present since before you were born is gone, in an instant. I struggled somewhat with it for about a year. One the one-year anniversary of his death, at exactly the time when he had taken his last breath, I suddenly felt this incredible field of energy going out of my body in every possible direction. It was really bizarre, though not frightening in any way. I just knew there was some kind of his presence out there somewhere. I miss him, but in a sense, he's very much with me in my thoughts. I've been completely at ease with his death since then. I've also come to realize that although he was very much absent as a nurturing parent, he love me unconditionally - in the sense that he accepted me exactly as I was. I think he's the only one who ever accepted me to that extent. Now he's just sort of a thought companion. I recognize him in certainly movements I have, in my own thought patterns, in my love of the outdoors, and lots of other ways.
I'm glad your sister's okay. Are there any more siblings? I'm the youngest of five (two older sisters, two older brothers).
I know what you mean about the genuineness of online vs. in-person. There's a wonderful one-act play that I always read with my Research and Literature class about how different conversations would go if you could stop, rewind, and revise. (as in Groundhog Day with Bill Murray (sp?). It's by David Ives and it's called Sure Thing. Well worth the read, and I think it's something you'd relate to quite easily.
At the same time, what you ultimately produce when you click on that Submit your post button is also telling. What you allow out is incapable of blanking out what you've kept hidden. It blurs it, no doubt, but your essence is the same. The very fact that you care about the revision is in itself an important part of you - one that a lot of others might benefit by employing more frequently I might add (esp. myself in writing this particular paragraph :-))
Hope things go well for you tomorrow.
May you be filled with comfort at interacting with others...or barring that, be filled with comfort from knowing that if you're not, you're okay anyway.
I didn't know anybody still baked apples. My grandmother used to love them.
Health,
Richard
poster:Journeyman
thread:297419
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/social/20031229/msgs/297868.html