Today, my Mum Liz visited Durham Castle for the first time. It is our house, Jane’s and mine. Jane’s presence is all over it. Photos of Jane are here. Jane’s absence is screaming from every surface.
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Today, my Mum Liz visited Durham Castle for the first time. It is our house, Jane’s and mine. Jane’s presence is all over it. Photos of Jane are here. Jane’s absence is screaming from every surface.
5 replies on “Not How I Planned It”
Did you plan to make the point Dan, that you make, about the pain of the combination of absence and presence? I suddenly see how that combination is agony among the living as well.
Jane and I had unfinished business. Well, I think we did. Emphasis on I and emphasis on think. And that’s the only thing I’m dealing with, Dan. And that small thing isn’t easy. I keep meeting her in my dreams, and trying to finish it. Maybe, one day. And maybe, one day, for you, too.
Well it is a bit trite to say this Dan and it may take a long time for you to feel this way but I believe eventually rather than Janes abscence screaming from every surface as no doubt it does you will come to feel (albeit sadly) that every surface smiles due to the fact she had been there. I hope so anyway. You probably remember Prof Taylor at our E Education conference talking about “workers, lurkers, and shirkers” on sites such as these. I am a lurker I guess but if you yell I will hear you, see you, Lloyd
Sara, Jane and I had unfinished business, too but I think ours was more the kind you want. The way I make sense of it, Jane is a part of me now. She was when she was alive. It’s just that I am no longer a part of her. It’s up to me to finish – with me, now.
I hear hurt in your words. I know Jane could be harsh. I don’t know what to wish you but ache, rage, regret, whatever feels real now. I think this, not time is what heals.
Thank you for making yourself known here, Sara.
I like that.