Monday, March 03, 2008

The Black Bear

Everybody all nicely depressed now?

Sorry about the grim little posts over the past weekend. This time of year is always difficult. It was a bit better this year, curiously, becase the weather was so cold and wet.

Every year the first of March is hard. I have the hardest time when Bryn's birthday is sunny and the flowers bloom early. The day she died was like that, gloriously warm and springing with flowers. I still remember thinking that every single fucking transient flower would outlive her, and wishing I could blight every goddam one, wither them on the branch so that even the trees would lose the promise of the future. I was one angry, grief-blind son of a bitch.

So it's easier for me when her birthday is cold and raining.But life doesn't stop for grieving, or remembering your loss. Kids and parents continue to wake and eat and get dirty - and generate massive laundry explosions. This particular clothing IED has clearly blown the bed completely off the road.

Here's the Peep and his 3-D glasses. He complained that they didn't help him see the world in 3-D and I had a tough time explaining that the world is already in 3-D. Didn't get it. Four is a tough audience.

He's having a tough time with his little sister lately; lots of jealous teasing and squabbling. It's hard sometimes - although I love the little guy - to be fair about his grievances, since Missy is the world's happiest toddler and Peep is a poster child for the wild sulks and tantrums of the preschool times. We try.

And he tries us...I was baking soda bread when Missy was suddenly possessed by The Evil Clingy. So I plunked her on the stool and gave her the entire drawer full of silverware and kitchen tools to play with. What did Miss Sweeney chose to play with? Look, Daddy! These are my friends...see how they glisten...

And - best of all - we had Big Fun at Eliza's Birthday on Sunday with The Balloon...!


When we have a funeral in the Army we go to the grave with muffled drums at the sorrowful slow pace with rifles reversed, as though rainy marching in the painful field. But...when the obsequies are over...the heads come up, the troops step out and the band plays a rolling march with the bass drum booming like the pounding of a living heart.

Let's look towards the land of the living again.

1 comment:

atomic mama said...

Oh, yay, a soda bread recipe! Sweet. I baked 4 loaves of english muffin bread last weekend with leftover whey from our recent cheesemaking exploits. I suck at baking, but it was so-so.

In New Orleans we have the jazz funeral and the second line. Sorrow followed by celebration, all wrapped up in one.