Comments on: Then the Quail Came

By: Margaret Finnegan

Margaret Finnegan — Sun, 30 Nov 2008 21:58:19 +0000

When my daughter was diagnosed with epilepsy all I could do was think about it and talk about. It was really hard, and I started therapy. But eventually I got really tired of talking about me and my problems. Frankly, I got really bored by them. And that was how I knew I was ready to move on. Maybe you’re there too. If so, feel grateful.

By: altadenahiker

altadenahiker — Sat, 29 Nov 2008 19:31:29 +0000

so I had to read the whole poem. I don’t know what it means, or maybe I do, but only on a viseral level (yea! I got to use my word!), but it’s so damn melancholy and lovely. Do you know him?

By: Petrea

Petrea — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 05:48:50 +0000

Ditto Ann. We’re with you.

By: Susan C

Susan C — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 05:37:37 +0000

“At evening the quail will arrive.”

That’s lovely.

Sending you thoughts of hope and peace.

By: Ann Erdman

Ann Erdman — Thu, 27 Nov 2008 04:28:48 +0000

After my mom died in early 2007, my dad began to fail immediately but it took him more than a year and a half to join her in Heaven. It was painful and frustrating and heartbreaking and mindnumbing. I thought about blogging about it from time to time but never did. It probably would have been therapeutic. I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to go through the pain of seeing parents become someone they’re not. It just is. If you feel like you need to stop blogging about it for awhile, follow that instinct. If you feel like continuing, we’re with you all the way.

By: Petrea

Petrea — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 05:06:54 +0000

Bless you, Kelly. I wish I had words to make it better. I read the rest of the comments from yesterday and folks really had a lot to offer, thank goodness. I’m glad you’re having a good day. Many more, many more to come.