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View Diary: My Beloved, My Hero (91 comments)

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  •  For me to get the hang of mourning... (8+ / 0-)

    ... after my dad died was to finally figure out the missing part doesn't really end.  One adjusts to the absence of the person one loves.  Dad was one of those kind of fathers every girl (or boy) should have growing up.  I'm 67, and to this day he remains the kindest, most thoughtful, generous, considerate and loving man I've ever personally encountered.  I've heard of other fathers like him, but just haven't met them.

    Really, I hadn't lived at home for over a decade by then (he died in 1975), so it wasn't as though I was used to his presence in my daily life all that much.  Ditto his sister (who was also my godmother/aunt) with whom I'd stayed during the summers in my high school years and died eight years before Dad the same day.  I didn't live with them daily; I just missed the fact they were not there for me to call at any time I wanted.

    So, at my elder age, the whole thing of mourning comes around a lot more often now.  My parents and their siblings and grandparents' generations, and a few cousins are now all dead, and my generation of Baby Boomers is the eldest, and we're dying off in increasing numbers.

    I didn't deal with grief very gracefully at first, but I'm learning how to deal with adjusting to the losses in my life.

    I think my genealogy research helps with that.  I can look over the panorama of 300+ to (in two cases) 500+ years of ancestors and their siblings and the history of their lives.  It puts things in perspective (for me).

    Again, thanks for a wonderful diary.  I'm so sorry you lost your Beloved.  He sounds like one wonderful person to know, and you had to have been a fantastic couple together.

    I'm sick of attempts to steer this nation from principles evolved in The Age of Reason to hallucinations derived from illiterate herdsmen. ~ Crashing Vor

    by NonnyO on Fri Mar 29, 2013 at 08:19:41 PM PDT

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    •  My dad was gone years before I ever met My Beloved (9+ / 0-)

      yet they were very similar in many ways.  Both of them were gentlemen, in the old fashioned sense.  They both loved baseball, and they both loved me.  

      When dad passed, it left such a gap in my life, and in my heart.  For years, I kept thinking of what I had missed.  Then I woke up one day, thinking of what I'd been given.  It made all the difference.

      Grief can be that ferocious animal that gnaws at us and tears at our hearts.  It's an evil beastie, until we face it down.  Once put in its place, it starts to lose its power over us, never entirely going away, but becoming...manageable.

      As someone wiser than I once said, "You don't get over it, you get used to it."

      Your love of history  helped you to see another part of the lesson I've been learning and re-learning: the great wheel turns.  We live, we leave our mark, we leave.  And yet...nothing ever really dies.  Some part of us remains here, in one form or another long after we depart.  And the love we bear for one another, and share with one another......that's what eternity is made of.

      Oh.  And we were a pretty cute couple!  He always said so!



      We cannot call ourselves a civilised society if we refuse to protect the weakest among us.

      by The Marti on Fri Mar 29, 2013 at 08:59:15 PM PDT

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