Hello and thank you for calling in...

My name is Helen and I am a Photographer living in England. I started this Blog on the day that my Grandma died, three months after my Father died and several weeks before a third funeral. Initially it was a very personal way to stay connected to the people I'd lost and it helped, it really did. But writing and taking pictures everyday has opened back up a creative side that I had lost during the everyday. A big thank you to my followers, to those who take the time to comment and to new visitors, I hope we will become Blog friends too...

Monday, 4 April 2011

too much emotion and no words

'Busy Bee Day'
I meant to write a few times last week but words escaped me or possibly the subject escaped me. We buried my Nan on Wednesday, well her funeral was Wednesday and Burial of her ashes on Friday. The pain is so.... and there I am again running out of words, so many come to mind but none quite get there because there are no words that are enough to describe this feeling.
Now i know what 'beyond words' really means. Some things can be only be felt and expressed in emotion. Perhaps that's what telepathy is, conveying feelings rather than verbal expression. I've given this a lot of thought before. We all have this ability and to some extent we're able to do this and don't need words. You know when someone loves you, they radiate the feeling and you certainly know when someone is cross with you. Maybe that's why early humans didn't speak, being so in touch with their feelings that the feeling enough radiated its own communication vibrations.

Animals can do this, they are amazing at it!

'Heres To You'

Have you ever been driven crazy by your pet hounding you? its not the following you around or the noise they make, its a distress feeling they give out that gets right into your very nerves, into your blood stream until your so affected by it you have to stop and give them attention. People are scared of being near me this time, not because i'm a gibbering wreck, far from it, i think my brave face is sitting there so convincingly i should take to the stage! But i suspect it's because they are afraid that they will 'feel' my grief and it will be so intense that they are worried they wont be able to cope with it or me.

Its a cavern, a bottomless pit and we all know it once we've visited it. Members of another world who have lost loved ones, standing around the edge of the pit hoping not to fall back in. Its a secret location in the countryside, over the bracken covered hill just behind the wood that others don't know is there but boy we do. Were all milling around getting on with everyday life and every once in a while someone who's newly grieving tries to take us back there to look at the view. We should really pack a picnic and go with them but we make excuses that were busy that day because we're too scared to go there again. I feel sorry for them now, my friends, sorry that i'm reminding them of the pain they felt at the time.

And its not only pain its the disbelief, the shock, the sense that (to be corny) its a dream and i'll wake up and she'll still be here. i'm fighting the temptation to keep ringing her phone number, as though this time i will and she'll answer like she always has and i'll cry tears of joy instead that it was a mistake and she hasn't died at all, it was just a silly trick that someone was playing on me. That i'll hear the joy in her voice at hearing my voice and i'll tell her my stories and make her laugh as i've always done and we'll know without words that we are family and we are loved. Its a number i've been phoning all my life, with the same warm happy ending every time, and now i never will have that again. Bottomless empty pit. They will disconnect the number next week. I will ring it a few more times before they do, even though i know she won't answer and it will ring and ring but i know that somewhere out there in the universe she will hear it and know that i am ringing her and it will make her happy, like it did when she was in this world.

Her furniture is being taken away on Thursday by the auction house. Furniture that she collected that has been there my whole life and with it memories of Christmas and Birthdays, of Sunday dinners, of family. It needs to be done to pay for the funeral but it feels like the height of cruelty to take away and split up the things that have meant a safe place to me since my very first memories. And it feels like we're letting her down. I wish there was a way to keep it all, to put it in a new little house that we could all go to, like a holiday home. Sometimes money can buy you happiness.
All in all as my Auntie says 'its a bit grim'. And grim says it all. No frills and faffing, no pussy footing around the meaning and absolutaly no ray of hope with that word. Grim just about covers it nicely.

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