3 posts that moved me
Granny P on grief
Twenty-five years on, she's learned the hard way that as you grow older, as the deaths mount up, each one comes ever more freighted with past deaths, old griefs, with whole lives lost in the past; lives leaving little but photographs behind them- the odd object - the odd reminiscent piece of music - to remind you of how things were. At that funeral her dad was, she's sure, weeping not only for his sister, but for his long-dead parents, for his two much older brothers swallowed up in the killing machine that was World War One, for his wife, her mother, dead at 53: for all those lost lives - his lives - that theirs contained. At such moments the past reaches away behind but is also very close, close as the stratified layers in an archaeological site: whole centuries lying one on another, a mere whisker or two apart, in a single wedge of earth.
Girl on sex, anonymity and pastures new in Observer Woman
and covering the same topic on her blog, but this time talking about the impact on family life
Indeed, even at my grandmother’s funeral last month, a woman in her 60s who I’d never met, came up to me, and asked, “You’re Zoe aren’t you? You write that sex column. I love it! All my friends read it now; we talk about it a lot. I can’t say I agree with or relate to your experiences but it’s certainly an education!” I thanked her for her kind words, but felt awkward on two counts: Firstly, just moments before, I had been shovelling earth onto my grandma’s coffin, whilst I wept for my loss. And secondly, in front of my mum, it was rubbed in, yet again, about others’ reading my book and her not being able to.
Clare Sudbery on poignant family moments
I was just reading this, during which the writer describes one of those memories, of a moment. When your child is crying, and you know it is all your fault.I have one of those memories, one of those moments. It's incredibly strong. I doubt I'll ever forget.It was such a small thing, and I doubt my son shares the memory. I hope he doesn't. He'll have others of his own, no doubt. That he remembers, but I forget.
Twenty-five years on, she's learned the hard way that as you grow older, as the deaths mount up, each one comes ever more freighted with past deaths, old griefs, with whole lives lost in the past; lives leaving little but photographs behind them- the odd object - the odd reminiscent piece of music - to remind you of how things were. At that funeral her dad was, she's sure, weeping not only for his sister, but for his long-dead parents, for his two much older brothers swallowed up in the killing machine that was World War One, for his wife, her mother, dead at 53: for all those lost lives - his lives - that theirs contained. At such moments the past reaches away behind but is also very close, close as the stratified layers in an archaeological site: whole centuries lying one on another, a mere whisker or two apart, in a single wedge of earth.
Girl on sex, anonymity and pastures new in Observer Woman
and covering the same topic on her blog, but this time talking about the impact on family life
Indeed, even at my grandmother’s funeral last month, a woman in her 60s who I’d never met, came up to me, and asked, “You’re Zoe aren’t you? You write that sex column. I love it! All my friends read it now; we talk about it a lot. I can’t say I agree with or relate to your experiences but it’s certainly an education!” I thanked her for her kind words, but felt awkward on two counts: Firstly, just moments before, I had been shovelling earth onto my grandma’s coffin, whilst I wept for my loss. And secondly, in front of my mum, it was rubbed in, yet again, about others’ reading my book and her not being able to.
Clare Sudbery on poignant family moments
I was just reading this, during which the writer describes one of those memories, of a moment. When your child is crying, and you know it is all your fault.I have one of those memories, one of those moments. It's incredibly strong. I doubt I'll ever forget.It was such a small thing, and I doubt my son shares the memory. I hope he doesn't. He'll have others of his own, no doubt. That he remembers, but I forget.
posted by Rachel at 10:25 am
