Thursday, December 01, 2011

I feel so sad I could eat paper. Instead I ate two brownies then I felt sick. There is no cure for this sad, this desolate, this loneliness. Abby was my family, the one who didn't throw me out. She kept me and cared for me and told me I was ok the way I was. After all this time, I'm trying to believe it. All the meditation and incantation and poetry can't take away the shock the cold the ghosts who haunt and point and turn away.

Abby, dear woman.

I will never disown a child of mine. Never. What kind of mother does that? How hard must her heart be?


Ms. Moon said...

This story sounds profoundly deep.
I wish I had some comfort for you.

Radish King said...

Oh Beth darling. I am so sorry for your grief for Abby not telling you for the awful of finding out on the internet and for the fucking fog. And I'm with you in canceling November next year. I'm sending you thoughts of a place warm with an ocean and soup and whiskey and love and chocolate and cheese and wine and mountains and an idea that joy is out there for you because you do it so well.

beth coyote said...

Dear Mary-showing up here is comfort.

Dear Radish-whisky, I forgot about whiskey. The whole prescription sounds right. For now, the cat who sits on my stomach purring is enough.


Jaye Ramsey Sutter said...

I am sorry for the loss of your friend. There is no comfort for it. Only respect for your grief. That is all I can give you. And I can tell you that what you need from your friend will always be with you. That is no comfort now. May it bring you peace or something like it in the future.