I hadn’t connected grief with
sex, but Louise Gluck does in a poem where she compares the physical impact of
losing someone close with her first sexual experience with a lover.
Our first encounter with both
is so powerful, so overwhelming, so eye-popping that we are sure people can
tell what has happened just by looking at us. We feel radically different. So
we stand before a mirror, or by a calm lake, to see if we can detect any signs
of the change in our reflection. And yet, as overwhelming as the experience is,
and as transforming as it feels, we see little difference on the surface of our
skin.
* If you would like to read the rest of this post, let me know and I’ll send it to you. *
"At a time when thoughts don’t make sense, when words are just words, often we just need to be held."
ReplyDeleteI love that.
I am not much for people touching me or entering my space, but I do remember being very comforted by hugs at my mother's funeral.
Thank you. As for hugs, people can always ask if we'd like a hug. Then if we're not feeling that way at the moment, we can decline.
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