This is full blown grief, my friends; the inability to comprehend what’s being said and done in the moment.
Grieving the White House
Author: Lynn Haraldson
For more than 25 years, I've been writing about love, change, grief, and (occasionally) politics, trusting that there is more that unites than divides us. When I address weight-ish issues these days, it’s through a different lens than when I wrote my Lynn’s Weigh blog (2005-2015). May it–and my scale–rest in peace. I was 33 and blond when I started my writing career. Now, 58 and gray, I feel like (with apologies to The Carpenters) I’ve only just begun to live…and write.
Another day, another earworm
I woke up this morning with the 1975 Austin Robert’s song “Rocky” playing in my head. It’s been decades since I’ve heard it, but there it was, in my ears, and I remembered every single sad word.
And now for something not so different… Fiction v nonfiction
To paraphrase the Beatles, there’s nothing we can know that isn’t already known.
Grief is a wild child…
“Grief is a wild child. You’ll never tame it, but it’s ok to let it flow through you. Better through than around. Be good to yourself, and don’t take shortcuts.”
Fifty First Everythings All the Time
I still expected him to “snap out of it,” come to his senses, want to improve, remember who he used to be. Remember who he used to be to me.
Gobsmacked (but I’m back…)
I suppose it’s possible to “fake it ‘til I make it,” but make it to where? Oblivion?
Mourning and Internet friendships
After reading the news, and having a good cry, I thought about how Internet friends can be some of the best friends ever.
What if he wins?
Look, I know he lies. And he’s got a thing for dictators and Hitler, and maybe a little Putin puddin’ on the side (wink wink nudge nudge).
When “just a car” isn’t just a car
Turns out, I’m attached to freedom.
When Grief takes a Twist
"Do we ever truly let go of the people with whom we’ve been intimate on some level? Doesn’t a part of them live on inside us forever?"
