Powerful stuff

Saying it has been a crazy week would be a vast understatement. Yesterday afternoon was the Annual Memorial Service for the bereavement group I facilitate. I spent time Monday purchasing and preparing for the “light reception” portion of the day. I sat at my desk for approximately 10 minutes to swallow a salami sandwich practically whole on Tuesday. The service was lovely; simple and from the heart. There were some tears, but I was happy to see that at the reception those tears were for the most part replaced with laughter, with happy stories, and recollections.

I added Rob’s name to the Candlelight Vigil. As much as yesterday was about my group and their losses, it would not have felt right to attend such a service and not acknowledge him. So I read his name, “Robert Ryan Pirelli,” and lit a candle in his honor.

Today is all about catching up. What a week. Y'all can't complain too much, I DID post photos!

I just got an email from a college roommate who recently started reading this blog. She sent such a lovely thoughtful letter after years of fractured disconnect. The power of the blog. She read all the way from the beginning and caught herself up to the present. It seemed from her response that though we have been out of touch for so long, simply by reading here and seeing photos of Caroline, that she hasn’t missed a single beat. The power of the blog. Keep reading Eileen. I have missed you… now start your blog so I can cyber stalk you too =)

Dooce was on the Today Show this morning and I missed it! I can’t even view the video from http://todayshow.com/ here at work! She recently posted an interesting piece about her mommy blogging and whether or not it is exploitive of her daughter Leta (rhymes with pita). I cannot exactly explain the drive to post about your family personal moments, the daily grind, the milestones, the failures, the silly stuff. As things in our house unfold, I often reach for the camera and think hmmm, what should I title this post. It has just become a way of life. Steve knows that if it happens he is likely to read about it here, but does that mean I am exploiting Caroline or my family? There are no ads here, no revenue to be gained and even if there was, I don’t think I would consider that using my family for personal gain either.

The power of the blog. Just by keeping this blog, journaling both the mundane and the fabulous, my old friend Eileen was just able to catch up on all the craziness that is our life. If I didn’t have this place we still could have caught up, but I doubt in the same way. Imagine if you will a world where everyone kept a blog. Friend fall off the face of the Earth for awhile? Read her blog and get caught up and then call her to have dinner to discuss her adventures whilst off the face of the Earth. Your shopaholic cousin got married and now you never see her? Read all about her shopping antics and then accost her at the pasta salad at nana’s 80th birthday picnic to get more info on how she scored those James jeans for a song. The power of the blog.

I don’t think writing here exploits Caroline’s life. I think that when she is older she might be embarrassed by some of the things I have said, that she might even beg me to stop writing about her. I also think that when she is a mother someday struggling to figure out her place in the world that she will read about how we got to this point of contentment. I am hopeful that my words will resonate for her, help her, guide her (though I realize not always as a how to, perhaps even as a how not to) and if nothing else remind her that it is all normal, everything that she is feeling, that it won’t last forever no matter how bad it is or how badly she hopes it will. Behind each word she will find herself, my perfect little muse, the only thing in the world that would ever get me to want to sit and write and share all this with the world.

Tomorrow I will regale you all with the story of our chance meeting with expecting neighbors Jason and Sarah and maybe I will even toss in a silly Caroline story too.


Post a Comment