tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365244084462704027.post3580338739861381547..comments2024-03-27T12:08:02.812+00:00Comments on THE SMALL THINGS: Sorrow and glory and all the emotions in betweenTania Kindersleyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18355967725006605825noreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365244084462704027.post-84056965045718027422012-08-02T18:30:16.578+01:002012-08-02T18:30:16.578+01:00Di Nada,
There were days the first year or two af...Di Nada,<br /><br />There were days the first year or two after my mother went (the second parent to die, I lost them both whilst still in my early twenties) when I was laid SO low with the pain of it all I could do was sleepwalk though taking physical care of my house and family. I felt unable to describe or express any of it to a living soul, not even my sisters. Everyone else in the family seemed to be coping, so I butched on and did myself no good at all. My health really suffered and depressive illness overtook me. Decades later I have found my sisters weren't coping well either, despite saying nothing much at the time. Twenty years later we finally spoke of it and said, oh you TOO!<br /><br />Blogs may have been sanity-saving if we'd had such things, especially for the two of us who like to write and blog now. So use it and us whenever you need to, is my suggestion. No0one with an ounce of empathic imagination or emotional intelligence will mind.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13702475308562601190noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365244084462704027.post-11298717079560291952012-08-02T16:55:32.825+01:002012-08-02T16:55:32.825+01:00Angie - how good and kind you are. Thank you.Angie - how good and kind you are. Thank you.Tania Kindersleyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18355967725006605825noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365244084462704027.post-41108681614782392162012-08-02T16:55:11.703+01:002012-08-02T16:55:11.703+01:00Goldenoldenlady - what an absolutely lovely commen...Goldenoldenlady - what an absolutely lovely comment; thank you.Tania Kindersleyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18355967725006605825noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365244084462704027.post-53902071353500557542012-08-01T17:52:12.278+01:002012-08-01T17:52:12.278+01:00just to say, beautiful post, sending you love!
an...just to say, beautiful post, sending you love!<br /><br />angieangiehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05974280891092440220noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1365244084462704027.post-50856241493257179992012-08-01T15:14:29.933+01:002012-08-01T15:14:29.933+01:00Your father was a horseman. My mother was a cook,...Your father was a horseman. My mother was a cook, nay! a qualified chef. For the last ten years or more of her working life she fed people for a living. When she died (when she was 66 and I was 25) I inherited the lion's share of her cookery books as the older sisters between them decided I was the keenest cook of the next generation. For years afterwards I would use them and learn from them. Once in a while I would turn a page and there would be her marginalia, in her own neat rapid hand, and the sudden sight of her writing would bring me to my knees with grief.<br /><br />Your horse is the book margin your father has written on, as advice to you across time, being with her brings it all hurtling back. The day you don't receive the messages and feel the keenness of his loss will be a sadder day than this, I promise you.<br /><br />Big love.<br /><br />MarionAnonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13702475308562601190noreply@blogger.com