Saturday, September 15, 2007


Around 12:30 am on Sept. 15, 2006, my husband was pronounced dead, of acute myocardial infarction.

And so my life began to be suddenly very different.

I have come to think that this is like rock climbing: there is a safety line, and people who've climbed this path before, and a whole lot of other ones on the ground hanging onto the line in case I slip. And the climb itself is made up of tiny movements, decisions I make. Sometimes I hammer a bit of steel into sheer rock, and pull myself up using the strength I have; sometimes I only get anywhere with help, when my strength is gone and I can no longer see where I'm going or even if I'm heading in the right direction.

Pretty much anyone who would be reading this has had a hand in helping me climb the rock, whether they know it or not. I wish I had words for how much it has meant to have a safety net, but I still don't (it pisses me off a bit less, now). Thank you, more that I can say.

First day of new classes (writing, biology) is Monday. I'm becoming interested in some computer modeling of neural functions. It occured to me today (while I was at the cemetary, oddly)(see, still can't spell it) that I do not know if Hebbian learning can take place in non-glutaminergic neurons, because if that process depends on NMDA receptors, absent glutamate would mean absent the process, too.

Have a good weekend, and thank you.



Blogger Heatherly said...

you are in my thougts and prayers
as you go through the ripples of the event

10:49 PM  
Anonymous Suzanne said...

Today, then, is the day after the say the universe changed. It has been my privilege to help in my small way of holding the line.

7:46 AM  
Blogger Mel said...

I've been thinking about this coming up for you. It was 10 years ago yesterday that I watched my cousin die from cystic fibrosis.

It makes me think of a line from Torch Song Trilogy, when Harvey Fierstein's character and his mother are commiserating over their respective losses. She says to him, "Give yourself time, Arnold. It gets better... But, Arnold, it never goes away. You can work longer hours, adopt a son, fight with me, whatever... it'll still be there. But that's all right, it becomes a part of you, like learning to wear a ring or a pair of eyeglasses. You get used to it. And that's good. It's good, because it makes sure you don't forget. You don't want to forget him, do you? "

8:19 AM  
Blogger Lucia said...

I've been thinking about you too. And will continue to.

9:26 PM  
Anonymous Lynne said...

I too have held you in my thoughts all weekend. We'll keep you from fall off that cliff :)

Hang in there babe,

9:15 AM  
Blogger Jena the yarn harpy said...

You were definitely in my thoughts this weekend.
I hope the climb gradually becomes less rocky. You'll always have a safety net, whether you need it or not.


3:17 PM  
Blogger Nicole said...

I was thinking about you this weekend. I'm sending good thoughts your way.

7:46 PM  
Blogger farm-witch said...

sqeezing your hand to say, hang on!

8:39 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I've been thinking about you and hoping that warm thoughts from friends help in some small way.

the other Lynne

9:37 AM  
Anonymous The tattoo queen said...

We all love you, so much. you amaze me through it all, you lovely, wonderful woman you...

1:41 PM  
Blogger Carole Knits said...

The anniversary had to have been difficult. But you've come such a long way. I'm glad to have been part of your safety net.

8:16 AM  
Blogger Ruth said...

I've been thinking of you a lot this month. I hope we can get together soon.

11:27 AM  
Blogger Lorena said...

I wish so much that I could wrap you in a big bear hug in person, dear Liz.

12:43 PM  

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