Tag Archives: Sadness

Unfinished Business

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On the day we met, we were damaged.

Bruised fruit, I heard someone say,

and yet I could see how delicious

we could be, if we focused

on our sweet parts. And, for a time, we did.

Each morning after coffee and canned peaches, we

paced the perimeter,

with each step I learned more about

the nature of your heart. So broken,

both of us, there, in captivity,

love-notes, plopped clumsily

into my hands, your lap,

the perfect place for a head to rest,

if only we could have tabled together, found a patch of green

under that hot Arizona sun.

 

At least we had popcorn and iced tea,

that one full moon,

when our bellies pressed

against each other, gleaming

side by side. That night, I imagined

eating chocolate animal crackers

on Wednesdays

the sifting sun

through your windows

an old denim couch

in an endless summer, the two of us

cool and cuddled for hours

back rubs on bad days

when you would kiss

the freckles on my shoulders.

 

Now look at us.

Me, a shadow in your life:

A lonely girl on a lonely journey

In a land peopled by strangers.

I could be holding your dusty hand

Laughing and loving so greatly

But you asked me to let you go

And not wanting to violate

your boundaries, I did.

Still, I can’t help hoping

That someday I’ll convince you

It’s better to enjoy one bruised piece of fruit,

Than no sweetness at all.

Did you ever have an unrequited romance? Do you still think of that person? That moment? How long has it been? And how do you let it go?

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Tingo Tuesday: Tell Me About Your Grief Bacon

Cover of

Cover via Amazon

It’s Tingo Tuesday!

The first Tuesday of each month, I share a word from The Meaning of Tingo & Other Extraordinary Words From Around the World by Adam Jacot de Boinod.

Today, I’m telling you about a German word.

You know that excess weight that you gain from emotional eating? Germans call that “kummerspeck.” It literally means “grief bacon.”

Now, I have to admit, I’m not big on the pig. I know Americans have this bizarre love for bacon that, frankly, has me bewildered. It has to be the most un-heart-smart food, since, like… ever.

But.

I totally get the idea behind being so emotionally devastated that you tried to fill the hole with food. I remember how I felt when Tad dumped me when I told him I wouldn’t give him a blowjob.  I cried forever. I totally gorged on grief bacon.

And Ho-Ho’s.

I love that other cultures have language for the actions and concepts for which we haven’t necessarily got the right words.

So here’s the way it works!

Leave me a real or fictional comment about a time when you ate a lot of grief bacon.

I’ll pick one comment I love the most.

If you are a blogger, I will announce your identity and slip a photo of you into my side bar which will link to your blog so people can check you out all month. If you’re not a blogger, don’t worry. I will let everyone know how smart you are.

This month’s winner is Amber West from A Day Without Sushi.

THIS is where Amber left the comment that impressed TechSupport, and made her sweep this thing. Enjoy your time in my sidebar, Amber. You look so natural there.

Now, tell me about your “kummerspeck” moment. What happened, pookie? And what did you munch? You have until November 30th to be considered for the spot in my sidebar.

tweet me @rasjacobson

On Being Excommunicated

"sola" by Alessandro Pinna @ flickr.com

I am trying to understand disappearance. When a person chooses not to communicate, does it mean that person is busy? Could they be on a vacation overseas? Could it have been something that I said, or did I say nothing when I should have said something?

Because here I am walking around thinking everything is right in the world, that every baby born for the last six months has had ten fingers and ten toes. I thought the rain in the forecast meant the grass was growing, that the chill in the air meant pumpkins, not the end of something.

When a person chooses not to communicate with you, that person holds all the cards, all the power. There is little for the excommunicated to do but look at the sky but wonder and try to determine how it could be so blue, cry a little – alone, maybe – in the car, but put on a happy face, as if being forgotten does not hurt like a hundred bee stings, or the bloody scratch from the extended claws of a trusted cat.

Could it be that the person has decided that you are not, in fact, worth the effort – and has left you to figure it out? If that is the case, I am slug-slow at “figgering” and would prefer, like a racehorse with a broken leg, to be put out of my misery more cleanly. In this case without a bullet, but perhaps the words, “In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m already gone.”

How have you dealt with the loss of a friendship?