February 6: Until I am Dead, a Process, Naps

Santiago makes a vow . . . 

I wonder what he made that lurch for, he thought. The wire must have slipped on the great hill of his back. Certainly his back cannot feel as badly as mine does. But he cannot pull this skiff forever, no matter how great he is. Now everything is cleared away that might make trouble and I have a big reserve of line; all that a man can ask.

"Fish," he said softly, aloud, "I'll stay with you until I am dead."

Nothing is going to come between the old man and the fish.  Santiago has seen to that.  Either the fish will die, or he will.  It's a life and death struggle.

I think there is a false belief that, once a funeral is over, everything goes back to normal.  After a couple of days, you go back to work and get on with life.  The struggle is over.

Of course, that belief is false.  Grief is a process, not something that punches a time clock.  My sister, Sally, died almost seven years ago.  Still working through that loss.  Time doesn't heal.  It dulls.  All it takes is an old song on the radio, and suddenly the wound opens up again and starts to bleed.

I have spent a good portion of this weekend sleeping.  After the funeral yesterday, I took over a two hour nap.  This morning, after playing keyboard for a church service, I fell asleep on my couch again for almost three hours.  I think everything is finally catching up with me--my sister's death, the low blood sugar last Friday, the car accident on Sunday.  My body is telling me it needs a break.

This evening, I led a Zoom poetry workshop.  Some of my best friends showed up, and we wrote prompts based on poems by Galway Kinnell, one of my favorite poets of all time.  It was a good way to end a really long, difficult weekend.  

Tomorrow, I will teach.  Get together with a friend to work on a poetry project.  Take it as easy as I can.  I'm trying to give myself a little time to recover from the struggles of the last couple weeks.  Not completely recover.  As I said earlier, grief is a process, not a recipe.

Saint Marty is looking forward to a few more naps these next two days.