“Dying is a wild night and a new road.”
~ Emily Dickinson
TWO YEARS AND TWO MONTHS
The wild night has ebbed.
It began just as the sun was rising
and you were leaving
and it lasted for
two years and two months.
The gales of grief
that shook the shutters of my heart
blew back out to sea
and I’ve become friends
with the stillness of the house.
Every dust fairy whispers
your name
and their soft mourning comforts me.
I must be healing,
I only think of you now when I breathe.
~ Jean Fogelberg
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Photograph and poem Copyright © 2010 Jean Fogelberg. All rights reserved.
Becoming friends with the stillness of the house.
Oh, how those words touched me. The words that you wrote really hit home, and it has been sixteen years since I lost my husband. It gave me chills, I loved it that much! I loved all of it!
Thank you!
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Jean:
Your Emily Dickinson quote reminded me of something Walt Whitman said in Leaves of Grass:
“To die is different from what anyone supposed, and luckier.”
When I say that line to myself it always comforts me and lessens my own fear about dying and losing others.
I also (as many others have) find your photograph astonishing. As a lover and rehabber of crows and ravens both, I can feel the sense of fresh excitement and mystery that their wings bring to your own personal dance.
Jana
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I’ve never heard that quote before, Jana, I love it. Thanks for sharing that with us. I also love Ravens and Crows – they’re monogamous and good caregivers in their communities.
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I can’t believe it’s October already and fall is upon us. I love autumn and the crisp cool air, the colors of the leaves as they change and fall, but after fall comes winter and in walks dread and despair.
I am now realizing that I have to walk through another set of “firsts” since my Mom died. She loved Halloween and I think I have at least 2-3 different sweaters to wear every week until we get to the big 10/31…Then Thanksgiving, which is my favorite winter holiday. As of today, I’m scheduled to work that day, which is OK (I’ve been a nurse for 25+ years so I’ve learned to make my own holidays on different days). As “luck” would have it Christmas Eve/Day fall on a Saturday and Sunday this year and that is my weekend to work. Mom loved Christmas – so did Dad and they used to spend many an hour decorating and planning for the annual family bash. I’m one of those people that doesn’t enjoy winter, I thrive in warmth and light. I’m certain I must have a bear family in my lineage and I should hibernate until spring . . . but life doesn’t work that way. So I’m going to put on “my big girl pants” as Mom and I used to say to each other when faced with something we didn’t want to do, and walk through this “last” set of firsts.
It IS getting better, and so am I – but grief is one of those emotions that seems to lay in wait until it is almost forgotten then jumps out again and knocks you down.
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Marietta,
Reading abut you “putting on your big girl pants” made me smile. I can’t wait to use that for my next “trying” time. I think it should help take the edge off, thinking of this grown-up girl putting on her big girl pants!
Wouldn’t it be neat if we could hibernate not only for a season but for our seasons of grief as well? I know, I know, what would we learn from that? But the idea sure is tempting–guess it’s just as well we can’t make it so.
I hope as you go thru these upcoming holidays, you have many positive memories to bring you comfort, and some of the warmth and light you need for your winter days.
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Marietta, winter is not my favorite season, either; I, too, am a light and warmth lover. Thank you for the chuckle with your mention of a bear family in your lineage (tee hee!). If only we could simply hibernate for awhile and emerge upon spring’s lengthening light and warming days. October is usually enjoyable because weather in the upper Midwest holds “nice” for awhile and can actually be beautiful, like this year. When November arrives, however, I think of my mom and dad, both of whom are gone. And then winter comes soon thereafter. My “firsts” happened many years ago after my parents’ passing, but as humans we are obliged to always recall certain events forever. It keeps us connected from lifetime to lifetime, lest we forget the joys, lessons and pain that have helped us to become more enlightened beings and better equipped to continue giving to and loving others. Just as our limbs are connected to our physical bodies, so are each of us connected one to another.
About Jean’s “Two Years and Two Months” photo and poem, they are simply beautiful and evocative. I cried when I first came upon them on her website, both for her as well as Dan. Let us hope that she is compiling her artistry for publication in a book that can be enjoyed and be an inspiration for generations to come. Just as thankful as I am for Dan’s struggles through the challenges of notoriety and stardom in order to share with the world his multi-dimensional lyrical and musical gifts, so am I thankful that his spiritual path brought him together with the woman who was his perfect complement and whose divine gifts of poetry and photography have, just like the gifts of her soul mate, shone light on the path for many others. Return to this site often, Marietta, for inspiration and uplifting! You will be in my prayers and thoughts for a peaceful, joyful and quiet turning-inward winter season. With love, Suzanne
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Thanks to all the responses to that post from October – and I made it!! Sometimes the only way out is through -the journey had its ups and downs I survived.
I love this poem, Jean and my next “big” step is the one year marker. I feel the healing-and really am learning to make friends with my grief. Thanks for this site and for being the beacon of experience strength and hope. Now I’ve got to get some rest
)
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Marietta, it’s been our honor and pleasure to provide you with support on this part of your path. Now rest, heal, and then let’s see what marvelous things await you. ~ Jean
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Marietta,
Our journey through grief leads us to healing. Each step along our path is an intended part of our own personal journey, allowing us to connect more intimately with our source, the infinite source.
It is such a pleasure to read your positive comments in the midst of your not-so-favorite season. Winter provides us with the opportunity to turn inward and reflect–and to effect healing. We well. You are in my prayers. Suzanne
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Marietta, it must be a good day; I can chuckle at myself. I meant to say, “Be well.” Suzanne
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It may have been a typo, Marietta, but it’s surely what we strive for here at DLH: We well. ~ Jean
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Wonderful typo, “we well”, what more can a caregiver ask for?
Suzanne you hit the nail on the head. We (aim to be) well, we (help our loved ones to be) well, we (must take care of ourselves and be) well, I am lovin it… typo, I think not!!!
~Char
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Char, Jean and Marietta,
How funny, clever and, accurate. We [are] well. We [must be] well in order to be a help to others. Thanks to all for the insight and for laughing with me! Suzanne
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Jean,
I’m still awed so much by this photograph and poem. Thinking of it, I was wondering if you ever sell prints of any of your photographs, and if this particular one has some for sell? If so, from where might I be able to purchase one? My eldest daughter loves the photograph as much as I do and suggested I ask.
Thank you.
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Some day, Cindy, some day. Thank you. ~ Jean
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I have been thinking and thinking about this photo since I commented on it yesterday and what makes it so unique and so very appropriate for the poem, too. It’s quite interesting that while there is a stillness in the photograph, there is also the capture of movement. It’s as if you’re attempting to say the time has come to resume life as it was in some capacity and the stillness has ebbed to a large degree. Such a wonderful illusion it creates. I do believe this is one of the most interesting and captivating black and white photographs I’ve ever seen, especially since I know with what it is paired. Thank you so much for sharing it.
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Dear Cindy,
This photo speaks to me, on so many levels. I come back to this page often, to sit and admire the feel of it.
~Char
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I am with you on that one, Char. There is something so very lovely and calming about it – of that, there is no doubt.
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Thank you, Cindy. This was taken the morning after a storm with big winds. I woke up to see the beautiful blanket of leaves on the ground so I jumped into my costume and ran outside with my camera. I set it on a tripod and then ran, jumped, and spun around to get that feeling of movement. When I took this photo we were in the midst of our fight with cancer and I often felt this way; like the world was sitting placidly while I was whirling madly. ~ Jean
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After reading your reply, the photo makes perfect sense now. I believe that what you indicated about the photo is precisely what I was picking up on although I had no idea you’d taken it in the midst of Dan’s cancer. The stillness of our world while yours was spinnin madly out of control. Thank you so much for taking the time to reply. It makes the photo all that much more special to me. You have such great talents, and it’s wonderful that you’ve chosen to move ahead and use them so well despite the sadness that looms near you daily. Dan would be ever so proud of you in so many ways, but of course, you already know that, I am sure.
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what a way with words and the camera you have! I saw the references to your poem and photo yesterday but just found them today…I am speechless ..just beautiful; haunting yet hopeful
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Jean – All your comments, whether they’re a few words, or many, are always so poetic and calming. I hope, when the day comes when you chose to (perhaps) sell some photos in a book, you will include your poetry and thoughts. One would be able to open it to any page and know that a treat would be found.
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