Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Spring starts...

Note:  For those looking for Esme Kenney's eulogy, it can be found below, or in the archives dated March 11th.  

Today I went out and did a touch of birding for the first time since my sister's death on March 7th.  In truth, I largely forced myself to do it; I am still in a difficult place where it is hard to take pleasure in much of anything, and hard to look forward to the future.  But I think it is important that at some point I take an active stand for myself and my spirits; there is some selfishness in this but I think Esme would want to see a smile on my face again.

The last couple of days, Sunday and Monday, were exceptionally tough.  I do not fully understand why.  It feels like part of me is coming out of shock, and I am losing shelter to find myself in the middle of something very heavy with no end in sight.  As horrifying as the first couple of weeks were, I had some intellectual understanding that I would come out of it eventually, but this weekend I had glimpses of the possibility that I wouldn't.  Which is scary.  And the understanding that maybe I would need outside help, even beyond the very close and supportive family I have.  I have never really felt that way before.  

Also, it rained both Sunday and Monday, and I had been used to reclaiming some basic connection with reality and a modest infusion of well-being from taking in some sun on a daily basis.  Last night I had a spot of music (Beethoven) with my string quartet which pulled me back somewhat so that I went to sleep in a better place.  And this morning, seeing the sun shining, I made the effort to get out in it first thing, with a walk at Hammond Pond, my favorite park in Newton, and a place I may see very little of in the future, as I move to Ipswich this weekend.  

Hammond Pond really doesn't come into its own until mid and high Spring, with copious carpets of ground cover, decidedly varied woodlands and wonderful patches of skunk cabbage in the marshy spots.  But there were a few birds frisking about, nothing noteworthy but it was good to hear their song, see their escalating activity and a few signs of nest-building from robins and goldfinches.  Common mergansers prowled the pond, a large community of mallards waded and swam through the marsh, downy woodpeckers rapped and golden-crowned kinglets hovered, all to the ever-present symphony of the red-winged blackbirds.

I feel better today, though still a long way from chipper.  Love to all.

24 comments:

peg said...

Brian,

I know it is especially hard for you and for Tom & Lisa and Correy. Esme's death was hard for all of us and all we can do is to keep hanging in there and know that we will have good days and bad days and just get through it. I think all of us including Esme have an ability to experience joy from simple things (sun, water, birds, gardening/farming, pets, cooking, music,etc) and that feeling such moments of joy should be allowed and encouraged. Enjoy your farming, everyone knows that dirt has healing properties! Love, Peg

Brad Kenney said...

Maybe the details of small things can help build our world back up from its current shattered, scattered state.
Keep at it Bri.

dldeprez said...

Please just hang tough, Brian. Coming out of shock is the easy part. The aftermath of such a wound when the shock subsides is just searing pain. It hits hard just after you wake up and consciousness and memory assert themselves again. Healing takes time. I like the inductive approach that your relative Brad suggests: build up from the small things, like seeing familiar friends again along the eastern flyway. For me, I like plants; looking this month for the spring beauties, hepatica, and blood roots, which are the first spring ephemerals to blossom in the woods, is how to start building a new season and a new start.

dldeprez@hotmail.com

kdcutler said...

Brian--we haven't seen you since you were a young boy living nextdoor, but we want you to know that you are in our minds and hearts. We're not too far from you, so if you would like a break from the farm, think about coming to us in Vermont. Karan & Steve Cutler

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