Monday, March 26, 2007
Carpe diem. This phrase repeatedly goes through my mind. Carpe diem, your kid dies, go and create a little pleasure in life, don’t always hold back, if something is wanted, I should find a way to have it. Well the truth is I have carpe diem’d a couple times and it failed. I guess the rest of the world does not quite get spontaneous thoughts that are acted on (especially on a pretty and sunny day).
The other day I gave my business card to someone. He happens to have really nice hair and I decided what the heck, carpe diem, I gave him my card and told him I wanted to take care of his hair.
I feel since I have walked out of the fog of illness and sorrow it is important to acknowledge all the pleasurable things I would like to do. I am a tactile person. Since I can remember I always was feeling the texture of walls and fences. The nap of corduroy and the softness of silk anything I can rub my finger tips on. It is probably what drove the desire to be a hairdresser. I love the different textures of hair. I actually like to shampoo my clients because it feels good. In the last year I have taken many more bridal parties because the act of styling the hair and making someone beautiful gives me enjoyment.
Well--what is happening? Nothing, except awkward side glances when I walk past where he sits and the feeling I must have been crazy to have been so bold. Here is where the mixed up grief part comes in. I have this very and I mean very strong compulsion to explain it to him. First that my kid died and all I was looking for some small pleasure in his life and I thought he might of appreciated being a source of pleasure.
And second that life is short and it is important to go after pleasure in a life that has been filled with so much sadness (and I am not talking just about me). Of course I know I cannot explain it, it crosses the line into crazy and as it is I am dangling pretty close to being committed.
Or is it really crazy? Perhaps this is what we have as a common society have forgotten, to seize the day once in a while and create pleasure between each other, perhaps we wouldn’t have so many stupid wars.
Oh by the way--the other day a clairvoyant (yet a tale for another blog) told me that now that John is a spirit he is not really any longer my son. He was my son here on earth in flesh. I have been chewing on this, it does make sense, but on the other hand that does not mean he has stopped loving or watching me does it?
The other day I gave my business card to someone. He happens to have really nice hair and I decided what the heck, carpe diem, I gave him my card and told him I wanted to take care of his hair.
I feel since I have walked out of the fog of illness and sorrow it is important to acknowledge all the pleasurable things I would like to do. I am a tactile person. Since I can remember I always was feeling the texture of walls and fences. The nap of corduroy and the softness of silk anything I can rub my finger tips on. It is probably what drove the desire to be a hairdresser. I love the different textures of hair. I actually like to shampoo my clients because it feels good. In the last year I have taken many more bridal parties because the act of styling the hair and making someone beautiful gives me enjoyment.
Well--what is happening? Nothing, except awkward side glances when I walk past where he sits and the feeling I must have been crazy to have been so bold. Here is where the mixed up grief part comes in. I have this very and I mean very strong compulsion to explain it to him. First that my kid died and all I was looking for some small pleasure in his life and I thought he might of appreciated being a source of pleasure.
And second that life is short and it is important to go after pleasure in a life that has been filled with so much sadness (and I am not talking just about me). Of course I know I cannot explain it, it crosses the line into crazy and as it is I am dangling pretty close to being committed.
Or is it really crazy? Perhaps this is what we have as a common society have forgotten, to seize the day once in a while and create pleasure between each other, perhaps we wouldn’t have so many stupid wars.
Oh by the way--the other day a clairvoyant (yet a tale for another blog) told me that now that John is a spirit he is not really any longer my son. He was my son here on earth in flesh. I have been chewing on this, it does make sense, but on the other hand that does not mean he has stopped loving or watching me does it?
