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Who was Cassandra?


  • In the Iliad, she is described as the loveliest of the daughters of Priam (King of Troy), and gifted with prophecy. The god Apollo loved her, but she spurned him. As a punishment, he decreed that no one would ever believe her. So when she told her fellow Trojans that the Greeks were hiding inside the wooden horse...well, you know what happened.

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August 06, 2008

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This is so touching, a warm and very human expression of what grief feels like when it's fresh and when it fades. I kept nodding in agreement as I recall past deaths of family. Be well.

I remember so distinctly my husband picking up the phone to call his father, dialing the number, and then remembering that he was dead. The look on his face broke my heart.

That shawl is priceless. There are boxes of tools in our garage that belonged to my father-in-law. We have moved them twice, still in their boxes. My husband doesn't use them, but they are with us, and I think it comforts him.

I have never experienced this kind of loss myself, but I have great empathy for you after watching my husband's grief. I'll be thinking of you and your husband.

Thanks for continuing to share. Bless you all.

What a sincere compliment! He must have really liked you.

My recent trip to England remided me of the loss of my own father.Dad was an English orphan who came to Canada as a boy to work on a farm in the Eastern Townships. Though he lived to be 87 he never lost his English accent. There were moments during my time in Canterbury when I heard his voice or saw a flash of his Wedgewood blue eyes in the face of another - strangely sad and comforting at the same time.

I lit a candle for Mounir in Canterbury Cathedral on Friday evening. Standing in that very special place my prayers went out for you and J. and for your father-in-law. I prayed for peace, I prayed for rest.

I would have been terrorized.

It's sad to have this much familiarity with the stages of grief, but it's an inevitable part of growing older. I've pretty much stopped having the impulse to call my father about baseball games and the other things we enjoyed talking about, but they still make me think of him. It comforts me to wear the brand new socks I took from his drawer after his death and brought home with me.

And I miss your father-in-law too, in an odd, reflected way. You've made him a part of all our lives, for which I thank you once again.

Lovely, you describe people and things and I see them...thank you

Lovely, you describe people and things and I see them...thank you

Yes. It softens, over time.

(o)

Mostly just to let you know that I am still here, reading. But also to thank you for reminding me that the quilt squares my mother made when she was a young girl still rest in an old broken cardboard box waiting to be sewn together into that thing I will then have to start dealing with, again. I can't find a quiltmaker willing to do it. Either it's too sacred or they think I can't afford it. I'll try again now. Thank you.

Green beans and a hand-made shawl - those are wonderful memorials, I have to say.

(o)

Ah the knitting, the knitting. The fabric of life. I love the vertiginous height from which you have chosen to view Socrates.

My mother bought me some shawls over the years and now she's gone they are a true comfort and precious. Thanks for reminding me Beth that they embrace me as she used to...
I love this mention of shawls by Alice Walker:

Be nobody’s darling,
Be an outcast.
Take the contradictions
Of your life
And wrap around
You like a shawl,
To parry stones
To keep you warm.
Alice Walker

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