Comments on: Foxes in the Rain

By: Emily Paintone

Emily Paintone — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 02:16:49 +0000

Thank you for these beautiful words. My father died when I was young too, and I hardly knew him. I agree with you about the strange way we deal with death.

By: Christian.J.Thompson

Christian.J.Thompson — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 17:09:59 +0000

Angeliska, great read! I just stumbled upon your page while looking for Gadjo Disko info (I’m new to Austin and just heard about it!).

I was having a really hard time last Sunday. My mind was too sharp to touch, so I aimed to tune out and went running. I ran until the secret machinists in my lungs started to drop their cranks and give up.

… and then the rain came down, making the sun into neon oil, making me laugh and hum and run some more. The devils’d marry daily if I had it my way.

By: annie

annie — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 16:49:14 +0000

i tried to respond to this on the weekend, but it didn’t come out quite right. my heart is tumbling over your words for your mother. you honour her in such a true and beautiful way. as all our dead should be. you’re right, you’re so right, about mourning, about it all. i’m soaking up all these wonderful comments. i lost my own mother four years ago this friday, and i’ve been quietly preparing myself for my first year away from my sisters and the grave site. it’s been hard. but since i’ve been here i’ve been cultivating a small corner for me and for her, pictures and candles and a place of remembering away from the the place the carries the most visceral memories and traces of her. these things are important. so many thoughts going through my mind, but i’ll leave it at that now. i just wanted to say thank you for this. and to send a hug through webs and wires, from one daughter to another.

By: Sasha

Sasha — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 17:35:02 +0000

I agree with everything you said towards the end of this entry. The loss of my mum is something I will be trying to understand and accept for years to come. Our culture doesn’t talk about death, and almost has a strange stigma with mourning. Overall society needs to approach loss in a different way.

By: Virginia

Virginia — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 14:49:15 +0000

When I was very young, and my mother told me “the devil was beating his wife” during a sun-shower, I got the idea in my head that he used a brass coffeepot in our house, which has a dent in it. I thought it was so terrible that anyone would hit another person hard enough to leave a dent in metal, and I was mystified about why we had the devil’s coffeepot. I wouldn’t touch it after that.

Your mother was beautiful. I’m glad you have some of her things now.

By: lanternamagica

lanternamagica — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 04:49:59 +0000

Your words make a lovely altar. I lost my father when I was a child and I am just beginning to realize how little I know about him. You are so very right! As Americans, we mourn quietly and “move on” without much fuss. We need tangible things- relics, pictures, things they’ve touched- I have a swiss army knife and a threadbare Canada t-shirt. They mean the world to me. So wonderful that your mother left so many meaningful things and that they keep finding their way to you. May you be blessed with more and more…

By: Jeff

Jeff — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 22:33:01 +0000

Couldn’t agree with you more. My father died just two months ago and I’m still looking for the right words, prayers, gestures.

Came across this the other day in the Shambhala Sun:

http://issuu.com/todd.kesselman/docs/shambhalasun

“We see death as obscene. The Victorians had difficulties with sex but they had a very powerful death culture and were very good at commemorating it. We’re the opposite. We can talk about sex until we’re blue in the face but we cannot face death. “

By: verhext

verhext — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 18:32:21 +0000

i just scream “RAINBOW” and run outside. but so many wedding stories? must be true, then. how funny.

i think the way you openly talk about death and mourn helps so so many people already. little magnetic thread pulling witchlet! tying people together and untying knots and letting go.

your mama, your mama. so many things happen in my head when you mention her or things come up – i’ll tell you later, i suppose. but in the way that her necklace you were wearing spoke, so do her photos & your remembrances. i am so glad that her magical things were kept and wind their way back to you through the years.

also: you are exactly a mix of your parents, visually.

By: Sienna O' Banion

Sienna O' Banion — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 18:07:28 +0000

We should definitely start planning for Dia de los Muertos soon. I’d still like to go on a frame hunting excursion for framing the photos of my ancestors. I’d like to do this to build an altar and maybe you’d like to join me on the frame hunting mission! Also, we should plant marigold seeds-lots of them-I have many seeds. A lovely way to honor and remember our beloved departed and invite them to visit our homes!

By: Misha/DawaiOser

Misha/DawaiOser — Sun, 09 Aug 2009 16:09:59 +0000

Thank you for the recognition of grief and the beautiful way of understanding and processing it. I lost my father when I was in high school and while I’ve learned to “deal with it” and move on…it still had a lasting and deep effect. Along with some of my other favorite things, I keep his photo on my bedside table – which sounds odd but it helps me keep his face in my “minds eye”…not to forget.