Journal entry by Joanne Negstad — 22 hours ago
It has been my pattern this summer to divide my time between Minneapolis and the Little House on the Prairie. Usually I drive to SD Sunday afternoon and return to MN on Wed. It has been a helpful pattern for me, giving me time with family in both states. Hanging out at the cemetery has been meaningful, and, now with the marker ordered I look forward to its installation in about six weeks.
Yet, the reality remains, that she is neither here nor there and I don't like that absence. There is a huge void. Today's Minneapolis Paper was filled with articles about Lindsey Whalen's pending retirement from the Minnesota LYNX of the WNBA. This news would have been the fodder for many conversations for us, because we have followed Whalen's career since she played for Minnesota. "Well, you can tell her" some say. But telling is not conversation. No one else in the whole wide world knows all the implications of that news to our relationship.
All my waking hours are not spent thinking about Joanne, though her absence always lurks. So, it is the things that happen, people I see, news event, etc., that I'd normally share with her, that jolts me back into the reality of her death. Because she is neither here nor there, there is no escape.
Yet, there is so much for which I'm grateful and above all for relationships with family and friends. So much kindness continues to bless me. As she prescibed for the grave stone "Takk for alt."
Blessings,
al
Yet, the reality remains, that she is neither here nor there and I don't like that absence. There is a huge void. Today's Minneapolis Paper was filled with articles about Lindsey Whalen's pending retirement from the Minnesota LYNX of the WNBA. This news would have been the fodder for many conversations for us, because we have followed Whalen's career since she played for Minnesota. "Well, you can tell her" some say. But telling is not conversation. No one else in the whole wide world knows all the implications of that news to our relationship.
All my waking hours are not spent thinking about Joanne, though her absence always lurks. So, it is the things that happen, people I see, news event, etc., that I'd normally share with her, that jolts me back into the reality of her death. Because she is neither here nor there, there is no escape.
Yet, there is so much for which I'm grateful and above all for relationships with family and friends. So much kindness continues to bless me. As she prescibed for the grave stone "Takk for alt."
Blessings,
al
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