BrokenBranch of Sleet
Feb. 16th, 2022 07:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoI was in a slightly altered state of consciousness today, as a result of being awake for the apparently obligatory two hours in the middle of the night. I went back to sleep for just long enough to be semi-functional when I woke up. I dreamed about this very fancy, two-level library that actually had a swimming pool inside. I can't imagine much that would be nicer than a library/swimming pool combination.
The day took a turn for the unnerving when I drove to the bookstore cafe to meet Madame. I'm getting my cataract removed next Wednesday, so we had moved our visit to today. I had a brief phone call with Deb right before leaving, so I dashed over there in a hurry, only to find she was not there. Fifteen minutes later, I was about to text her when I received a partial text from her. It didn't make much sense--she is not an aficionado of technology. Just then, her voicemail finally showed up on my phone. She said that her sister had died on Monday night, and she had lost track of time, but was on her way over. When she arrived, I asked if she was okay, or if she wanted to postpone our visit until later. She said "No, I'm just so grateful I had somewhere to go," and began to cry. Oh, woe is me. This is so terribly sad. She has lost her last remaining sibling, and I do know how she feels. A sister you can talk to is precious, because they hold the memories of the whole life that you shared, things no one else can really understand. I felt like crying myself. I ushered her to a table, where we had lunch and coffee, sometimes speaking of the death, sometimes of other things to distract from the grief. I learned she would not be alone tonight. We made tentative plans to meet again before my surgery, but she doesn't know yet when all the family things will be happening, so we'll have to be flexible. I told her that any time she's desperate for someone to talk to, she should feel free to get in touch. Her severe deafness is very isolating, and I don't want her to be alone. Once I got home I was pretty much done for the day.
The day took a turn for the unnerving when I drove to the bookstore cafe to meet Madame. I'm getting my cataract removed next Wednesday, so we had moved our visit to today. I had a brief phone call with Deb right before leaving, so I dashed over there in a hurry, only to find she was not there. Fifteen minutes later, I was about to text her when I received a partial text from her. It didn't make much sense--she is not an aficionado of technology. Just then, her voicemail finally showed up on my phone. She said that her sister had died on Monday night, and she had lost track of time, but was on her way over. When she arrived, I asked if she was okay, or if she wanted to postpone our visit until later. She said "No, I'm just so grateful I had somewhere to go," and began to cry. Oh, woe is me. This is so terribly sad. She has lost her last remaining sibling, and I do know how she feels. A sister you can talk to is precious, because they hold the memories of the whole life that you shared, things no one else can really understand. I felt like crying myself. I ushered her to a table, where we had lunch and coffee, sometimes speaking of the death, sometimes of other things to distract from the grief. I learned she would not be alone tonight. We made tentative plans to meet again before my surgery, but she doesn't know yet when all the family things will be happening, so we'll have to be flexible. I told her that any time she's desperate for someone to talk to, she should feel free to get in touch. Her severe deafness is very isolating, and I don't want her to be alone. Once I got home I was pretty much done for the day.
sitting with someone in their grief
Date: 2022-02-17 07:41 am (UTC)holding you both in the light.
no subject
Date: 2022-02-18 02:36 pm (UTC)I can see how that was exhausting. Sending hugs.