I watched the programme on the ABC last night about the photograph of the falling man from the Twin Towers.
It was described as having a quality of stillness. That it did, until you were shown the other photos in the set of 12. Those were full of movement, tumbling over and over, until that one shot. When I looked at that photo, it was not the stillness that hit me but the smallness of the man against the vastness of the building behind him.
I had a lot more to say about that and about taking Mum to see my Mother-in-Law today. It was a long way for Mum to go but it was a nice warm day and she made it. They hadn't seen each other for two years so it was tears all round and a chin wag. We didn't stay long, they both tired easily. I said I'd be back soon and we left around 11.30.
My ex called as I walked in tonight to say Nellie Jean had passed away at 3 o'clock. Another small stillness.
I was with my son when he died. When the life force leaves the body it becomes very still, just like a house emptied of people. That's what death is to me, stillness a never ending stillness.
8 comments:
Very powerful, JT. Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I am sorry, and I within these words I send you my best wishes.
Janet
My thoughts are with you.
Sometimes, jahteh, it's helpful to think of death as a blessed release from the relentless pain of living.
Hugs and xxxxxxxxxxxx!
My son was 24 and Nellie was 92 and they both struggled through pain at the end and had there been a bank account for years she would have gladly given some of hers to him, as we all would.
Remember the good times, jahteh, of which I'm sure there were many. Peace!
Link that is exactly what happens. The way I describe it, it's like finding the casing of a cicada. It's still perfect in every detail but the substance is gone.
We haven't been checking blogs lately and just came in to catch up on yours - and found your sad, sad news.
We're so sorry, JT.
The cicada analogy is very good. Not heard it before.
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