Rabbit Holes (the not necessarily fun kind)

Falling down rabbit holes – especially these days – usually consists of discovering and or exploring something new, something wicked and fun, or maybe something – what were the words I used this morning? Oh yeah: craven and lascivious. The one I fell down just now wasn’t either of those things, though. Even if I was perusing Fetlife.

I haven’t spent a lot of time on Fet since W died, because it was just too hard to see our images, to see that beloved face. These days – almost 10 years on – I can look at most of the images I have there, images that span the entirety of my relationship with W, without pain. I don’t feel the hitch in my heart; I just feel…grateful that in my deepest grief I didn’t delete them all.

It was a close thing.

Lately when I do get on Fet I am on to check out the Events section, to see what’s happening where. I was on today because I wanted to doublecheck the date for a play party. Instead what I stumbled on, what sent me down a rabbit hole of reading, pondering, spiraling a little and reading some more, was someone’s post on Fet. Someone I didn’t know writing about the death last year of someone I did know, if only peripherally. It was anguished and heartbreaking, the death an accident cutting off a life in its prime. We expect death in the elderly. Even I accepted that W would die long before I did. But that doesn’t make it easier. I felt every word she had written as if they were my own. The sorrow, the denial, the anger. The bite of it has gone, and yes, I can look at pictures again, I can even read some of my writings again, but those other feelings are a part of who I am now.

And yet…where I landed, after all that, was in acceptance. Sad, yes, but that’s okay. I can be sad sometimes and then not-sad.

Everything changes.

One thought on “Rabbit Holes (the not necessarily fun kind)

  1. Ypu have truly moved my heart today.
    They Softly Walk by Hugh Robert Orr
    They are not gone who pass Beyond the clasp of hand, Out from the strong embrace. They are but come so close We need not grope with hands, Nor look to see, nor try To catch the sound of feet. They have put off their shoes Softly to walk by day Within our thoughts, to tread At night our dream-led paths Of sleep. They are not lost who find The sunset gate, the goal Of all their faithful years. Not lost are they who reach The summit of their climb, The peak above the clouds And storms. They are not lost Who find the light of sun And stars and God. They are not dead who live In hearts they leave behind. In those whom they have blessed They live a life again, And shall live through the years Eternal life, and grow Each day more beautiful As time declares their good, Forgets the rest, and proves Their immortality.

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