| Topic: |
Sociology > Depression |
| User: |
"Noon Cat Nick" |
| Date: |
19 Sep 2007 09:07:18 AM |
| Object: |
In Memoriam--Veronica Lindell--24 November 1930 - 19 September 2006 |
The dead they sleep a long, long sleep;
The dead they rest, and their rest is deep;
The dead have peace, but the living weep.
--Samuel Hoffenstein
* * * * * * * * *
While I slept, while I slept and the night grew colder
She would come to my room, stepping softly
And draw a blanket about my shoulder
While I slept.
While I slept, while I slept in the dark, still heat
She would come to my bed, stepping cooly
And smooth the twisted, troubled sheet
While I slept.
Now she sleeps, sleeps under quiet rain
While nights grow warm or nights grow colder,
And I wake, and sleep, and wake again
While she sleeps.
--Robert Francis
* * * * * * * * *
Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so,
Having no heart to put aside the theft
And turn again to what it started as,
A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
The music in the piano stool. That vase.
--Philip Larkin
* * * * * * * * *
Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died young.
--John Webster, _The Duchess of Malfi_
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| User: "used2be" |
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| Title: Re: In Memoriam--Veronica Lindell--24 November 1930 - 19 September 2006 |
19 Sep 2007 10:17:34 PM |
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"Noon Cat Nick" <chatdemidiSPAMBEGONE@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:q2aIi.93368$Xa3.18636@attbi_s22...
The dead they sleep a long, long sleep;
The dead they rest, and their rest is deep;
The dead have peace, but the living weep.
((((nicholas))))
i wish there was more i could do or say...
~cindy
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| User: "Noon Cat Nick" |
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| Title: Re: In Memoriam--Veronica Lindell--24 November 1930 - 19 September2006 |
19 Sep 2007 10:45:14 PM |
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used2be wrote:
"Noon Cat Nick" <chatdemidiSPAMBEGONE@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:q2aIi.93368$Xa3.18636@attbi_s22...
The dead they sleep a long, long sleep;
The dead they rest, and their rest is deep;
The dead have peace, but the living weep.
((((nicholas))))
i wish there was more i could do or say...
~cindy
Thanks.
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| User: "%" |
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| Title: Re: In Memoriam--Veronica Lindell--24 November 1930 - 19 September 2006 |
19 Sep 2007 10:46:02 PM |
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"Noon Cat Nick" <chatdemidiSPAMBEGONE@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:e1mIi.94182$Xa3.1603@attbi_s22...
used2be wrote:
"Noon Cat Nick" <chatdemidiSPAMBEGONE@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:q2aIi.93368$Xa3.18636@attbi_s22...
The dead they sleep a long, long sleep;
The dead they rest, and their rest is deep;
The dead have peace, but the living weep.
((((nicholas))))
i wish there was more i could do or say...
~cindy
Thanks.
hi
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| User: "spy vs spy" |
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| Title: Re: In Memoriam--Veronica Lindell--24 November 1930 - 19 September 2006 |
19 Sep 2007 04:33:48 PM |
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"Noon Cat Nick" <chatdemidiSPAMBEGONE@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:q2aIi.93368$Xa3.18636@attbi_s22...
| The dead they sleep a long, long sleep;
| The dead they rest, and their rest is deep;
| The dead have peace, but the living weep.
|
| --Samuel Hoffenstein
|
| * * * * * * * * *
|
| While I slept, while I slept and the night grew colder
| She would come to my room, stepping softly
| And draw a blanket about my shoulder
| While I slept.
|
| While I slept, while I slept in the dark, still heat
| She would come to my bed, stepping cooly
| And smooth the twisted, troubled sheet
| While I slept.
|
| Now she sleeps, sleeps under quiet rain
| While nights grow warm or nights grow colder,
| And I wake, and sleep, and wake again
| While she sleeps.
|
| --Robert Francis
|
| * * * * * * * * *
|
| Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
| Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
| As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
| Of anyone to please, it withers so,
| Having no heart to put aside the theft
|
| And turn again to what it started as,
| A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
| Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
| Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
| The music in the piano stool. That vase.
|
| --Philip Larkin
|
| * * * * * * * * *
|
| Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died young.
|
| --John Webster, _The Duchess of Malfi_
your mom huh? i am sorry.
.
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| User: "Noon Cat Nick" |
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| Title: Re: In Memoriam--Veronica Lindell--24 November 1930 - 19 September2006 |
19 Sep 2007 05:42:07 PM |
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spy vs spy wrote:
"Noon Cat Nick" <chatdemidiSPAMBEGONE@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:q2aIi.93368$Xa3.18636@attbi_s22...
| The dead they sleep a long, long sleep;
| The dead they rest, and their rest is deep;
| The dead have peace, but the living weep.
|
| --Samuel Hoffenstein
|
| * * * * * * * * *
|
| While I slept, while I slept and the night grew colder
| She would come to my room, stepping softly
| And draw a blanket about my shoulder
| While I slept.
|
| While I slept, while I slept in the dark, still heat
| She would come to my bed, stepping cooly
| And smooth the twisted, troubled sheet
| While I slept.
|
| Now she sleeps, sleeps under quiet rain
| While nights grow warm or nights grow colder,
| And I wake, and sleep, and wake again
| While she sleeps.
|
| --Robert Francis
|
| * * * * * * * * *
|
| Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
| Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
| As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
| Of anyone to please, it withers so,
| Having no heart to put aside the theft
|
| And turn again to what it started as,
| A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
| Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
| Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
| The music in the piano stool. That vase.
|
| --Philip Larkin
|
| * * * * * * * * *
|
| Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died young.
|
| --John Webster, _The Duchess of Malfi_
your mom huh? i am sorry.
Thanks, svs. A year has passed, and things have only gotten worse and
worse for me. The only comfort in her passing is that she isn't here to
see my continuing decline.
.
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| User: "spy vs spy" |
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| Title: Re: In Memoriam--Veronica Lindell--24 November 1930 - 19 September 2006 |
19 Sep 2007 07:36:09 PM |
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"Noon Cat Nick" <chatdemidiSPAMBEGONE@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:3BhIi.93865$Xa3.42155@attbi_s22...
| spy vs spy wrote:
|
| > "Noon Cat Nick" <chatdemidiSPAMBEGONE@hotmail.com> wrote in message
| > news:q2aIi.93368$Xa3.18636@attbi_s22...
| > | The dead they sleep a long, long sleep;
| > | The dead they rest, and their rest is deep;
| > | The dead have peace, but the living weep.
| > |
| > | --Samuel Hoffenstein
| > |
| > | * * * * * * * * *
| > |
| > | While I slept, while I slept and the night grew colder
| > | She would come to my room, stepping softly
| > | And draw a blanket about my shoulder
| > | While I slept.
| > |
| > | While I slept, while I slept in the dark, still heat
| > | She would come to my bed, stepping cooly
| > | And smooth the twisted, troubled sheet
| > | While I slept.
| > |
| > | Now she sleeps, sleeps under quiet rain
| > | While nights grow warm or nights grow colder,
| > | And I wake, and sleep, and wake again
| > | While she sleeps.
| > |
| > | --Robert Francis
| > |
| > | * * * * * * * * *
| > |
| > | Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
| > | Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
| > | As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
| > | Of anyone to please, it withers so,
| > | Having no heart to put aside the theft
| > |
| > | And turn again to what it started as,
| > | A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
| > | Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
| > | Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
| > | The music in the piano stool. That vase.
| > |
| > | --Philip Larkin
| > |
| > | * * * * * * * * *
| > |
| > | Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died young.
| > |
| > | --John Webster, _The Duchess of Malfi_
| >
| >
| > your mom huh? i am sorry.
| >
| >
| Thanks, svs. A year has passed, and things have only gotten worse and
| worse for me. The only comfort in her passing is that she isn't here to
| see my continuing decline.
October 28th will be one year with out my dad. Can't say I know exactly
how you are feeling, but I know it is hard.
.
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| User: "Jesters mummy" |
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| Title: Re: In Memoriam--Veronica Lindell--24 November 1930 - 19 September 2006 |
19 Sep 2007 07:53:04 PM |
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On Thu, 20 Sep 2007 00:36:09 GMT, "spy vs spy" <spyvsspy@mad.com> wrote:
<(((*>
<(((*>"Noon Cat Nick" <chatdemidiSPAMBEGONE@hotmail.com> wrote in message
<(((*>news:3BhIi.93865$Xa3.42155@attbi_s22...
<(((*>| spy vs spy wrote:
<(((*>|
<(((*>| > "Noon Cat Nick" <chatdemidiSPAMBEGONE@hotmail.com> wrote in message
<(((*>| > news:q2aIi.93368$Xa3.18636@attbi_s22...
<(((*>| > | The dead they sleep a long, long sleep;
<(((*>| > | The dead they rest, and their rest is deep;
<(((*>| > | The dead have peace, but the living weep.
<(((*>| > |
<(((*>| > | --Samuel Hoffenstein
<(((*>| > |
<(((*>| > | * * * * * * * * *
<(((*>| > |
<(((*>| > | While I slept, while I slept and the night grew colder
<(((*>| > | She would come to my room, stepping softly
<(((*>| > | And draw a blanket about my shoulder
<(((*>| > | While I slept.
<(((*>| > |
<(((*>| > | While I slept, while I slept in the dark, still heat
<(((*>| > | She would come to my bed, stepping cooly
<(((*>| > | And smooth the twisted, troubled sheet
<(((*>| > | While I slept.
<(((*>| > |
<(((*>| > | Now she sleeps, sleeps under quiet rain
<(((*>| > | While nights grow warm or nights grow colder,
<(((*>| > | And I wake, and sleep, and wake again
<(((*>| > | While she sleeps.
<(((*>| > |
<(((*>| > | --Robert Francis
<(((*>| > |
<(((*>| > | * * * * * * * * *
<(((*>| > |
<(((*>| > | Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
<(((*>| > | Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
<(((*>| > | As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
<(((*>| > | Of anyone to please, it withers so,
<(((*>| > | Having no heart to put aside the theft
<(((*>| > |
<(((*>| > | And turn again to what it started as,
<(((*>| > | A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
<(((*>| > | Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
<(((*>| > | Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
<(((*>| > | The music in the piano stool. That vase.
<(((*>| > |
<(((*>| > | --Philip Larkin
<(((*>| > |
<(((*>| > | * * * * * * * * *
<(((*>| > |
<(((*>| > | Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died young.
<(((*>| > |
<(((*>| > | --John Webster, _The Duchess of Malfi_
<(((*>| >
<(((*>| >
<(((*>| > your mom huh? i am sorry.
<(((*>| >
<(((*>| >
<(((*>| Thanks, svs. A year has passed, and things have only gotten worse and
<(((*>| worse for me. The only comfort in her passing is that she isn't here to
<(((*>| see my continuing decline.
<(((*>
<(((*>
<(((*>October 28th will be one year with out my dad. Can't say I know exactly
<(((*>how you are feeling, but I know it is hard.
My mom died in 1984. You never forget the loss, but after awhile the pain
becomes manageable, and eventually it becomes a kind of emotional "white noise",
always there, but not always in the foreground.
Remember that they loved you, and that they wanted happiness for you. And do
everything in your power to attain that happiness, and dedicate it to their
memory. It does help.
Tara J. Ballance
Montreal, Canada
The e-mail of the species is more deadly than the mail - Stephen Fry
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| User: "Alan Harding" |
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| Title: Re: In Memoriam--Veronica Lindell--24 November 1930 - 19 September 2006 |
20 Sep 2007 01:56:29 AM |
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In message <3sg3f35t2f41q8l83rvqqktsv3ha49ltvv@4ax.com>, Jester's mummy
<cocky2@nest.egg> writes
My mom died in 1984. You never forget the loss, but after awhile the pain
becomes manageable, and eventually it becomes a kind of emotional
"white noise",
always there, but not always in the foreground.
Have you stopped reaching for the phone to talk to her?
--
The opinions given above may be mine. They might also
just be what I feel like saying right now, okay?
.
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| User: "" |
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| Title: Re: In Memoriam--Veronica Lindell--24 November 1930 - 19 September 2006 |
19 Sep 2007 06:33:09 PM |
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On Sep 19, 6:42 pm, Noon Cat Nick <chatdemidiSPAMBEG...@hotmail.com>
wrote:
spy vs spy wrote:
"Noon Cat Nick" <chatdemidiSPAMBEG...@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:q2aIi.93368$Xa3.18636@attbi_s22...
| The dead they sleep a long, long sleep;
| The dead they rest, and their rest is deep;
| The dead have peace, but the living weep.
|
| --Samuel Hoffenstein
|
| * * * * * * * * *
|
| While I slept, while I slept and the night grew colder
| She would come to my room, stepping softly
| And draw a blanket about my shoulder
| While I slept.
|
| While I slept, while I slept in the dark, still heat
| She would come to my bed, stepping cooly
| And smooth the twisted, troubled sheet
| While I slept.
|
| Now she sleeps, sleeps under quiet rain
| While nights grow warm or nights grow colder,
| And I wake, and sleep, and wake again
| While she sleeps.
|
| --Robert Francis
|
| * * * * * * * * *
|
| Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
| Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
| As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
| Of anyone to please, it withers so,
| Having no heart to put aside the theft
|
| And turn again to what it started as,
| A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
| Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
| Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
| The music in the piano stool. That vase.
|
| --Philip Larkin
|
| * * * * * * * * *
|
| Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died young.
|
| --John Webster, _The Duchess of Malfi_
your mom huh? i am sorry.
Thanks, svs. A year has passed, and things have only gotten worse and
worse for me. The only comfort in her passing is that she isn't here to
see my continuing decline.
Sorry about your mother Nick, and time doesn't end the "I miss you"
factor. And I wish I could help you with the idea, really, that you
are getting worse and worse. Loss, for me, has always been the make
or break to the way I saw my life. I'm talking about a broken love
you had. If you are anything like me, and I can't assume that, then
listen to this:
I had a year long relationship which ended in '78, engagement party
gifts returned. By '84, I was still messed up about it. My little
Dorothy Hamill copy, who was nice.
Being messed up about it after 6 years made me feel I was just gonna
die with the feelings for a person who had moved on. (I called the
house, after weeks of deliberation, and the father said, "No, she's
married, has 2 kids, one on the way." I tried not to clue him in that
I was dying inside and in shock, but I did say, "Thank you sir, you've
been kind."
"Uhhhh...Ok."
Now that I think about it I sent a letter then. I sounded like a
game show host, "Well, 2 children, one on the way, that's fantastic!!
I'd like to apologize to you for being a monster (?), and wish you and
yours the very BEST of luck!!"
Funny, she never wrote back. My clock has never been linked to an
ex's clock. Musta seemed insane to her. It certainly did to me, and
I was sick of living with myself with this person in my head who did
not exist anymore. It took 2 more years, and a realization that
Dorothy Hamill hairdos were no longer all the rage, but it ended
finally, and I know longer saw her coming at me in every maroon coupe.
While it was happening, I certainly seemed to be getting worse and
worse. And I wasn't as social as regular humans, so it wasn't that I
replaced her with anyone new. That don't work anyway.
So anyway, the old man, who died 1 1/2 yrs ago: It seems we are
closer now, and that ain't a joke. It seems he hooks me up, helps me
out, reminds me of things. I wonder if it hurts him when I say I am
ready to give up? Maybe that's insane too. But I prefer to think
there's someone out there caring about me. I heard a good description
of it in a movie: "See that window washer up on that building? If
there was an accident 3 blocks away, he could see it before we could."
I think he can see more than I can now.
I think you said you were helping your father out earlier in the
year. I think the old man likes it when I'm nice to the old lady.(me
and my brother, that's what we call them.)
so my point should be, in 5 words or less, I think mom is not blind to
your situation, but she'd want to scream, "Don't allow yourself to
think I am not with you, and don't think I see a "continuing decline".
That's a self-label that will break her heart Nick.
I saw a little 3 year old in a shopping cart today. The parent didn't
look at me, I immediately saw the kid had Downs Syndrome, and she
locked that little smile on my eyes (kids love me).
"HI!", she said.
"HI!", I said.
Stop declining Nick.
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| User: "Platypus Rex" |
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| Title: Re: In Memoriam--Veronica Lindell--24 November 1930 - 19 September2006 |
19 Sep 2007 10:00:54 AM |
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Sorry Nick. Hang onto the good memories.
-c
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| User: "Noon Cat Nick" |
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| Title: Re: In Memoriam--Veronica Lindell--24 November 1930 - 19 September2006 |
19 Sep 2007 10:44:36 AM |
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Platypus Rex wrote:
Sorry Nick. Hang onto the good memories.
-c
Thanks, Chris. Stay well.
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| User: "David" |
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| Title: Re: In Memoriam--Veronica Lindell--24 November 1930 - 19 September 2006 |
19 Sep 2007 09:18:05 AM |
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The wise one once said, we should not pursue depression, but life and the
pursuit of happiness.
"Noon Cat Nick" <chatdemidiSPAMBEGONE@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:q2aIi.93368$Xa3.18636@attbi_s22...
The dead they sleep a long, long sleep;
The dead they rest, and their rest is deep;
The dead have peace, but the living weep.
--Samuel Hoffenstein
* * * * * * * * *
While I slept, while I slept and the night grew colder
She would come to my room, stepping softly
And draw a blanket about my shoulder
While I slept.
While I slept, while I slept in the dark, still heat
She would come to my bed, stepping cooly
And smooth the twisted, troubled sheet
While I slept.
Now she sleeps, sleeps under quiet rain
While nights grow warm or nights grow colder,
And I wake, and sleep, and wake again
While she sleeps.
--Robert Francis
* * * * * * * * *
Home is so sad. It stays as it was left,
Shaped to the comfort of the last to go
As if to win them back. Instead, bereft
Of anyone to please, it withers so,
Having no heart to put aside the theft
And turn again to what it started as,
A joyous shot at how things ought to be,
Long fallen wide. You can see how it was:
Look at the pictures and the cutlery.
The music in the piano stool. That vase.
--Philip Larkin
* * * * * * * * *
Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle: she died young.
--John Webster, _The Duchess of Malfi_
.
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