In my singing group tonight, a woman who reminded me of G. In fact the mother of E, the young woman who leads the group. Something about her energy, her stance, the tilt of her head, something subtle in the arrangement of her features. I don't even think you'd say she resembled her, and she was a bit younger, but she evoked G's presence so powerfully for me, it was at times hard to know whether to stare or look away or try not to stare or try not to look away. I kept breathing and kept singing and I was alright. It was like a kind of terrible magic.
The evidently loving relationship between this woman and her daughter, and nine-year old grandson, who came to the first little while of the group before heading for bed, so moving, so alive. G's daughter and granddaughter were, I knew so important to her, and I saw them at the funeral, faces pinched with shock and grief. I am so happy for this family that they are safe and together, so envious, so angry, so - I don't even know what all these emotions are.
2 comments:
A strong, painful, blessed truth: the way that people who have been significant to us are always there, present in our perceptions of other people and events. Your writing about this awful loss holds so much that feels important and full of life.
How utterly awful for the daughter and granddaughter. Can hardly think of anything worse.
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