My sorrow for your loss. Kent was such a bright light, in my life, too, albeit for a much shorter time. We met in the dining hall at Saybrook College at Yale. He was a jolly, irreverent senior, I was a scared sophomore who had just transferred there. He was working as a server in the food line, and I was moving through with my tray. He told a joke and made me laugh. It went from there. He was my first and best Yale romance. Hugs to you during this sad time. Laura Wilson.
I'm terribly sorry to hear this, as is my wife. I'm glad I managed to write that poem for the two of you although at the moment I can't remember a damn word of it; we all have our burdens. Marriage is an odd word I find. Well, all words are odd, but "marriage" is one of the odder ones. I've been married three times and about the only thing they had in common was my chosen partner was a woman. Nowadays, of course, you don't even need one those which, old fart that I am, I find odd but I accept; I don't have to understand everything. What I have come to appreciate about marriage is this: no two are alike. The ones you think will last a lifetime can peter out in months and then odd couples like Carrie and I just keep on keeping on (July '97 on). It makes no sense. But sense ruins the magic. It seems like you and your husband had a time of it but you also had a time, a rare ol' time. That's good. Yay, the both of you.
Thank you for letting us know about Kent and your life together. You did not want to let him go. I understand. But he needed to. His body spent.
I'm so sad to hear about you left alone now, though I have no doubt you have many friends to comfort you. Still it's just not the same.
Not the same as life with your partner of thirty years. Your husband, your lover and your friend. Stop all those clocks.
I never met Kent. I've never met you, except on the page in your wonderful words. But I grieve with you for Kent, now gone. And send my loving feelings.
I love the power in your words. I honor you. And belonging to this stupid club none of us want to belong to. Here's to honoring Kent, his life and his love of you.
My sorrow for your loss. Kent was such a bright light, in my life, too, albeit for a much shorter time. We met in the dining hall at Saybrook College at Yale. He was a jolly, irreverent senior, I was a scared sophomore who had just transferred there. He was working as a server in the food line, and I was moving through with my tray. He told a joke and made me laugh. It went from there. He was my first and best Yale romance. Hugs to you during this sad time. Laura Wilson.
I'm terribly sorry to hear this, as is my wife. I'm glad I managed to write that poem for the two of you although at the moment I can't remember a damn word of it; we all have our burdens. Marriage is an odd word I find. Well, all words are odd, but "marriage" is one of the odder ones. I've been married three times and about the only thing they had in common was my chosen partner was a woman. Nowadays, of course, you don't even need one those which, old fart that I am, I find odd but I accept; I don't have to understand everything. What I have come to appreciate about marriage is this: no two are alike. The ones you think will last a lifetime can peter out in months and then odd couples like Carrie and I just keep on keeping on (July '97 on). It makes no sense. But sense ruins the magic. It seems like you and your husband had a time of it but you also had a time, a rare ol' time. That's good. Yay, the both of you.
I do love the wrapping sentence of this comment. The transparency of the shared mystery in marriage is well communicated. I felt it.
I am so very sorry, Glenn. You (and Kent too) are in my thoughts. Please reach out if and when you want to. I am here for you. Sending much love.
Dear Glenn
Thank you for letting us know about Kent and your life together. You did not want to let him go. I understand. But he needed to. His body spent.
I'm so sad to hear about you left alone now, though I have no doubt you have many friends to comfort you. Still it's just not the same.
Not the same as life with your partner of thirty years. Your husband, your lover and your friend. Stop all those clocks.
I never met Kent. I've never met you, except on the page in your wonderful words. But I grieve with you for Kent, now gone. And send my loving feelings.
Thank you, Elisabeth.
People should be so lucky to love as you do. And thanks for making me cry, I needed that.
Thank you for reading. Tears flowed down my face throughout the writing.
I love the power in your words. I honor you. And belonging to this stupid club none of us want to belong to. Here's to honoring Kent, his life and his love of you.
❤❤❤❤❤