I have been in Boston for a week
tomorrow. I have been visiting friends. I have been checking in at
the UUA. I came up to Boston just after the funeral last Saturday.
When I came I was disoriented. Grieving. Tired. Very tired. I was coming down with a cold. The cold lingers. I am less disoriented. I have embraced the grieving, it doesn't possess me like last week. I experience myself owning the grief, and being deliberate about the process. I know I will still find myself overwhelmed and taken by aching sorrow. But right now it is more a sweet sorrow, a contemplative sigh.
Talking to people who knew Marjorie
is good for the soul, good for the grieving. Thanks to all who gave of
their time. One good friend observed that those I meet with, knew
Marjorie as well, and that the sharing of stories with me was part of
their grieving as well. She asked if that was difficult for me. I
answered no. I find being alone more difficult, talking with others
about Marjorie is healing.
I lived in Boston and its vicinity for most of my adult life. Being here, trying to navigate by rapid transit and bus, walking from the bus to this church, and that headquarters building has been a revelation. My body has become accustomed to a warmer, dryer winter than Boston presents. This is a warm day for Boston, but it is too cold and damp for me.
My soul loves Boston, but my body wants to be in LA. I think I will schedule my Boston visits for the warmer times in the future.