http://www.dok.com/blog <br> Daily Journey<br> http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss dok@mac.com Doktor - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Thu, 23 Oct 2008 05:11:43 -0400 Thu, 23 Oct 2008 05:12:09 -0400 iBlog 2.0 RC3 http://www.dok.com/blog/October%202008/October2008/index.html <br><br><br><br><br><br><br>Hard to imagine that a year has come and gone since Jessie last took a breath (assisted by ventilators) or drummed her heels and fists and demanded that we notice she had woken up (though she was supposed to be asleep because of sedation in ICU). Hard to believe that she isn’t going to crawl up into daddy’s lap and make plans for a father-daughter date, or hide in a dark corner with our black lab Lacey and make herself almost invisible, or ask mommy to read her one more chapter of Cornelia Funke’s Ghost series, or shut the door to her bedroom and play secret games with her big sister Sarah.<br><br><br>Sometimes, the only reaction seems to be a desire to drop to your knees, and sob or scream. Sometimes the only response is to keep busy. To keep going and stay one step ahead of sorrow. And sometimes…sometimes grief is such a constant part of life, you simply give it space (like one extra chamber in your heart or an extra organ in your gut) and then keep going. You forget what it was like to function without this feeling as part of your days and nights…so you start to get used to it…it becomes a normal part of your life. And you don’t always notice it. It’s always there…but it isn’t always the first thing you think about, or feel. And yet, it never goes away. Like Jessie’s presence – and now her absence – it’s a constant part of your reality.<br><br><br>---------------------------------------------------------------<br><br> Thu, 23 Oct 2008 04:40:08 -0400 http://www.dok.com/blog/October%202008/October2008/index.html