Tag Archives: grief

Friday Pix: Recommended Reading For The Weekend

This Friday I point you to some recommended reading around the blogosphere:

1. Here’s a moving story from the New York Times’ Modern Love column about how one woman chose to move on after a break up.

2. For the wordsmiths out there, here’s a great post on the expression “It turns out” from the jsomers.net blog (via Ben Casnocha.)

3. And if you’re really feeling literary-minded, have a look at this quick, six-minute quiz at Sporcle to see how many books you can name from their covers (Hat Tip: Katy Keim’s Book Snob.)

4. In the Department of Visual Effects, check out Britain’s best-loved streets in The Guardian, as well as 19 insanely colored houses at Burbia.

5. Here’s a thoughtful meditation on grief as a collective experience at Salon. Do not miss the embedded video, which features a teen-age girl’s song tribute to her mother who died of cancer.

6. Finally, for those feeling nostalgic for the 70s, my favorite film critic – New York Magazine’s David Edelstein – weighs in on how he’d cast the sequel to Gilligan’s Island on his blog The Projectionist.

Follow Delia on Twitter.

Add to FacebookAdd to NewsvineAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Furl

Coping with the Death of a Parent: A Poem

Nothing drives home the fact of adulthood quite so clearly as the death of a parent.

My own father passed away not very long ago. Today would have been his 77th birthday.

Shortly after he died, a friend sent me the following poem to comfort me during this loss.

Today, in his honor, I share that poem with you:

In Blackwater Woods

–          Mary Oliver

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blur shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what it its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

Add to FacebookAdd to NewsvineAdd to DiggAdd to Del.icio.usAdd to StumbleuponAdd to RedditAdd to BlinklistAdd to TwitterAdd to TechnoratiAdd to Furl