PlazaJen: Passion Knit

So. Grief. Maybe you've noticed I haven't talked about it all so much, all the time, cataloging the minutes of each day spent weeping and the dreams and the sadness. Because it's spaced out, it fades, but then -AHOY!- it schlumps back through the kitchen like a teenager dripping books and clothes and dirty dishes in their wake. GAH! I hate the unpredictability.

I don't like the fact that songs that are written about lost loves, broken relationships, also apply :startlingly: to a dead parent. "Who Knew" by Pink always catches me by surprise -
(excerpt)
When someone said count your blessings now
'fore they're long gone
I guess I just didn't know how
I was all wrong
They knew better
Still you said forever
And ever
Who knew

Yeah yeah
I'll keep you locked in my head
Until we meet again
Until we
Until we meet again
And I won't forget you my friend
What happened

If someone said three years from now
You'd be long gone
I'd stand up and punch them out
Cause they're all wrong and
That last kiss
I'll cherish
Until we meet again
And time makes
It harder
I wish I could remember
But I keep
Your memory
You visit me in my sleep
My darling
Who knew
My darling
My darling
Who knew
My darling
I miss you
My darling
Who knew
Who knew

I usually am fine through most of the song, and then we hit that part about the final kiss, and I see my father about to die and his skin changing color and knowing I was there for those final moments, holding his hand, feeling my husband holding me from behind. Gah. Hey, guess what's coming up, less than a month away ? Maybe that's why. Anniversary of his death, one year. June 10. I'm going to the Royals Stitch & Pitch that day, so I'm looking forward to a good distraction, among friends, spending some time later with my husband, looking at the grasses we planted in his memory, but today, I just keep falling apart, just a little bit, just a small seam ripped, a few tears spilling out each time before I can pin it back up, fold over the selvedge and restore some order...

On a lighter note, Pink's latest song/video "U + Ur Hand" completely makes me want to do this to my hair:



James looked very nervous & afraid when I told him that. Apparently nearing 40 is not making me want to buy the Nissan Z as much as it is making me want to look like a punk. (No, I don't want all those tattoos. Though if I could ever settle on one tattoo, I'd be tickled...pink.)

Labels: grief