January Babe Musings (Nailing Home A Few Truths)

The head teacher at work took notice and commented, “ You seem to have lost a little weight.” In the past, I would have responded, “That’s great! Thank you.” or, “Oh, I’m so happy to hear that.” But this time my curt reply could only be, “I see.” What was I supposed to say? And what was there to celebrate about? That I have lost weight because of grief?

Angelica Huston once said, “There will be times in your life when you feel so all alone. Utterly alone.” More than ever, I know what she was talking about. It’s that feeling when nobody seems to understand what’s going on inside you. Afflictions of the soul aren’t meant to be shared, are they?

Certain heartaches are bound never to heal. We simply endure the hurt forever. I completely get that now. The loss that stabbed your heart – which did leave an intense hole within you is the hole that you start carrying everywhere . The one which makes you start thinking how strange it is to walk along familiar places that suddenly become so unfamiliar. A hole only a measure of hushed loneliness could fill.

The hour when the tenacious dream of life runs the risk of being smashed to pieces. We mistake that peace for death, and we believe we long for our end, when what we long for is sleep and indifference.” – Jorge Luis Borges

Gradually though, a ray of light has begun permeating through the cracks of my broken spirit. That’s some kind of very slender progress. Perhaps.

For almost two months I had no desire to type even a single word on my keyboard. Yet I tried to somehow. This time I would like to thank certain people who have provided me some solace during these trying periods. You know who you are. No need to mention names. It’s amazing that even the bloggers I’ve crossed paths for the first time were able to impart good wisdom and deep sensibility to what I’ve been going through. Please know how grateful I am for your comforting words. They’ve been of considerable help – especially in times when I question my need to inform my writing of my pain and stinging convictions.

These days I manage to get on with the business of living; tending to the immediacy of my daily tasks with a bit more normality. I cry less, too. How do I do it? By merely putting my one foot in front of the other. It reminds me of an Oprah episode with Maria Shriver Kennedy – who had been inconsolable after losing her cousin John F. Kennedy Jr. in a plane crash – affirming: “You have no choice but to go on.”

If other people are able to do that, so can I. As if I had another option. And yes, I try to push away the memories and mournful thoughts as far away from me as possible. Can’t afford much to lose my moorings for fear that the turmoil predominating within me might not be good for my health. So tough it out I must.

I should be grateful that my job has given me reason to rouse myself in the morning and get out of the house before 8 a.m. Most often, the only time my mind gets a break from it all is when I am holding my whiteboard marker, explaining to half a dozen of my English-deficient students how to use the different verb tense forms in a sentence, or when to come up with a statement using the subjunctive mood. I must have been born to become a teacher. A teacher of this language – to be exact – even if my previous circumstances had prevented me from turning into one. Hmm..

And sometimes, too, I think, this could be what life is all about for me: my beloved son, my job, a few goals left, my writing hopes, and this online/blogging world. I may have missed one or two factors in there. Allowance for an addition or two also probable. Not bad… Baby steps to reclaim my life may be just what I need.

So that ought to be my focus for now – as I also aspire for the bent that will guide me to a light sufficient. That is…while riding it out in this world of the living.

Not bad at all.


14 thoughts on “January Babe Musings (Nailing Home A Few Truths)

  1. My dear new friend,
    This is a forum where we can challenge each other, while still opening our arms for those who have hurt like we have hurt.
    I hope your heart isnt too achy and your soul isn’t jaded.
    I don’t know what the troubles are, going on in your life, but I can relate to this post so well!

  2. “the one which makes you start thinking how strange it is to walk along familiar places that suddenly become so unfamiliar. ” You are renegotiating your place in the world, with the wisdom that you have already gained from your grief. You are so right in saying that you are moving through this….par excellence! I was so happy to see your post pop up in my reader.

    • We could only try. There are still days when I can’t help but move a couple of steps backward. Just like when you said how small things could trigger you back to a place you don’t want to go. And it’s also probable that I’ll keep on renegotiating my place in the world for the rest of my life. I guess they’re all part of the healing package.

      Seeing a new post from you is something I look forward, too, as you are undoubtedly an excellent and powerful writer.

  3. Morning Marj:

    You have come to the right conclusion. You must live on one step at a time. You son, your job, your blog, your beliefs will carry you forward. The breath of life is a wonderful gift from God, you must take advantage of what you have.

    I know you will eventually heal your grief and remember your father with love and admiration. He is still alive in your heart. Time and love are great healers.

    I’m glad that you are seeing a light at the end of the tunnel and taking baby steps forward. Incidentally, I love the way you write. I could read your blog posts for a long, long time.

    Warm Regards,


    • Oh my dear Omar, what would I do without you? You’re so sweet and kind, and you have become one of my true blogging pals. I know you truly understand what I’m going through, and so I cherish your presence here and every compassionate word you send my way.

      Your blog is one of the few I never fail to visit regularly as I always end up learning something worthwhile.

      Best to you, my friend..

  4. “…how strange it is to walk along familiar places that suddenly become so unfamiliar.” That’s exactly the feeling — and wondering how the world can just go on as though nothing happened.

    Yes, tough it out you must. As you have, and you will.


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