So moving. The tears are getting in my way as I type this. I wailed for my dad. I wailed for my brother. They stepped away thirty-five years apart. But the memories of their love and protection that I experienced growing up will never leave my heart. You are correct about grief. It can take you down and then help you up again as you heal.
Loved the last lines: the terrible, beautiful cost of losing all that must be lost. So many layers of pain, of inevitability, of acceptance and eventual joy. Thanks yet again!
Your repetition of, "I remembered falling. I remembered / falling. I remembered falling. I / remembered falling" was so so powerful. When reading the first, even the second -- I was still with you in a prose way, envisioning you falling -- but by the third one, then the fourth, I felt my heart open up and connect in a different way. I myself was falling from readerly imagining into that heart of grief.
I thought about my father today and just couldn't understand how a man so full of life, so able to dominate a room when he came in, could possibly be gone. He's been gone over 15 years but sometimes I'm still thunderstruck that it could be true.
Thank you for reminding me of the gift of grieving. When my father died I was 17 and had no experience with grief, which made it far easier to deny. Five years later was the first time I cried, which only compounded my trauma. Years and layers of denial later, I’ve unwound that wound, the scars, and live to embrace grief properly, in all its beauty and grace. Better late than never, as they say.
Any support you could offer to help me get my publication on the topic of child online safety out to as many parents, teachers etc would really make my year!
Helping people to protect children by educating them about the dangers online is a real passion for me as I have seen the end results of what predators do to them on far too many occasions and I will do everything I can to try and stop it!
I wonder if you woke up the floorboards a bit, the trees they used to be. Perhaps they remember the falling, falling, falling too. Thank you for your poem.
Those last few lines...wow. I have read and re-read them a few times. Thanks for sharing this one. Even six years out from losing my son this one resonates so much... Grief is surely the teacher...
Beautiful and so moving. You inspire me to write every day, dear Sherman. Thank you.
So moving. The tears are getting in my way as I type this. I wailed for my dad. I wailed for my brother. They stepped away thirty-five years apart. But the memories of their love and protection that I experienced growing up will never leave my heart. You are correct about grief. It can take you down and then help you up again as you heal.
Loved the last lines: the terrible, beautiful cost of losing all that must be lost. So many layers of pain, of inevitability, of acceptance and eventual joy. Thanks yet again!
How incredibly touching. Your eloquent words created the pain in my chest/heart for you.
I heard it - and there are no words of mine but the silence deep in my mind
I am getting messages from a Sherman Joseph Alexie Jr. is this a relative or is someone cloning your account?
That is not me
OK. I suspected and blocked
Your repetition of, "I remembered falling. I remembered / falling. I remembered falling. I / remembered falling" was so so powerful. When reading the first, even the second -- I was still with you in a prose way, envisioning you falling -- but by the third one, then the fourth, I felt my heart open up and connect in a different way. I myself was falling from readerly imagining into that heart of grief.
The last sentence is so real
Simply, even grief can be beautiful. Thank you, Sherman
Thanks Sherm.
I thought about my father today and just couldn't understand how a man so full of life, so able to dominate a room when he came in, could possibly be gone. He's been gone over 15 years but sometimes I'm still thunderstruck that it could be true.
Thank you for reminding me of the gift of grieving. When my father died I was 17 and had no experience with grief, which made it far easier to deny. Five years later was the first time I cried, which only compounded my trauma. Years and layers of denial later, I’ve unwound that wound, the scars, and live to embrace grief properly, in all its beauty and grace. Better late than never, as they say.
Hey @Sherman Alexie
Any support you could offer to help me get my publication on the topic of child online safety out to as many parents, teachers etc would really make my year!
Helping people to protect children by educating them about the dangers online is a real passion for me as I have seen the end results of what predators do to them on far too many occasions and I will do everything I can to try and stop it!
https://www.cybersafetyguy.com/
I wonder if you woke up the floorboards a bit, the trees they used to be. Perhaps they remember the falling, falling, falling too. Thank you for your poem.
Do the trees remember falling? Now that's a fascinating question.
Those last few lines...wow. I have read and re-read them a few times. Thanks for sharing this one. Even six years out from losing my son this one resonates so much... Grief is surely the teacher...
Thank you, Betsy.
Hopefully not often, But gravity wins. Forcing you down to as low as you can get.
That is true.