Thursday, February 24, 2005

And poor Ben, whom I mentioned earlier. My heart's been battered and bruised over the years--but his is being broken right now. And there's fuck-all I can do. I left a bag of candy bars and a note on his door the other day. I just wish there was a way to reach out to him right now--even though I really don't have any comprehension of what he's going through.
Hold him in the light (as the Quakers would say).

1 Comments:

Blogger Dymphna said...

The break-up of your first true love is one of the most painful events you can ever look back on. But look back on it you do...eventually.

Nothing helps but time. The piercing loss gradually gets shallower. You find yourself one day, for the first time, thinking of something else for five minutes.

These periods give way to longer stretches and you start to notice the weather again. Hope, "the little thing with feathers," returns to her perch.

It's like the scenes in those old movies when children got pneumonia before the advent of penecillin:

The worried family stood around the child's bed,wrung their hands while the good doctor intoned "there's nothing to be done until the fever breaks.."--implying of course, that it might not 'break' and then the child would die. Here the monotone dirge music started and quick shots noted the change of the hours and the constancy of the mother's cool cloths on the child's fevered brow. Finally, at dawn, the child would waken sleepily, the fever broken and the healing begun. The 'crisis' had passed --the music changed, the father grasped the doctor's hand in gratitude, the mother cried tears of joy and then life went on...

That's basically what your friend has to face, only without the family vigil. Go find a church with votive candles and light one for him (it's considered kosher to put a donation in the box for the candle).

While you suffer for him, remember that loss of love is loss of self. Mourning is the only cure for the return to self.

~D

4:25 PM  

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