Crosslinked- use the link for the full context:
http://www.freedominion.com.pa/phpBB2/v ... 50#1513250
( I think this has a place in "Letters to Miss Emily," so I will cross-link it... )
( excuse the familiarity, but I'm an old, Southron man-- that's how we talk, down here, and if you and all your menfolk were standing before me, face to face, that is how I would address you-- and I'd call your men "Suh!"
We're familiar, but real polite down here... because we never know when a stranger might be an Angel, in disguise... it's a very old legend, and a tradition here...)
( And a further footnote from Yers Trooly? Her Dogpack got me up at midnite, because Zoey, the Old Goat, wouldn't go out to pee at bedtime due to a thunderstorm--
Me: "Zoe! Come on! You gotta go!
Her: "Boss? You crazy? I'm not goin' out it that? An' you ain't makin' me..."
So naturally, we still have to get up at the "usual time" of about 3 AM to roam the yard, as well... bark at Invisible Boogermen, and finally get everybody back inside... I swear, it's like having a couple of three year old kids... )
...to address your last comment, first?
Yes, she was a very good writer- kind of like everything she put her mind to, when she got going with any subject, she was very good, indeed.
Just one, of many reasons, why I miss her so... she had so much to offer, and to give the world- not just me. I never could figure out the lever, or nudge, that would make her quit screwing around and get serious to devoting herself to all the things she was good at.
The world's loss... and mine.
“Her song was full
and tho it's still
I loved her well
I always will...”
( Written for that first wife, but Oh! So! Fitting for Miss Emily as well... damn it all to Hades... )
Yeah, I'm moving on, and at some point, these entries to both posts will taper off, and die down... but probably never completely cease-- I told her, long ago, in reference to something my poor old head has forgotten,
“Your Dead are always with you...”
And they are- you carry them in your Heart of Hearts, where your secret soul- the very essence of You, that only Giver of Life and a few, rare people know about-- resides.
Like a faraway Star, they live on as a pinpoint of light. You can see them, still, but no matter how much you crank up the magnification, they remain just a point of light.
Oh! So! Far away... visible, but forever distant.
( And in what I used to tell Miss Emily is “A minor Note from Housekeeping”-- the Old Goat is stirring around again-- damnation, she got me up at 12 and 3, and now she's restless? What the devil? OK, she has moved in front of the fan I set up for her... has she finally learned that the sofa is hot, and the fan is cooler? Time will tell... )
Related to the above footnote? I've mentioned, elsewhere, Miss Emily's strange affinity and bond with animals-- how she could run her hands over a sick critter and say “the problem is here...”
Not long before she died, she said to me, “Zoey says this is the first place she's been happy...”
Remember, She also told me that when Trey, her last Good Boss's Golden Retriever lay dying, he let out a great shout ( to her )
“Home! I'm goin' Home!”
Not, she said, the “home with Daddy Jim,” but to The Really Good Home...
Honey, it's hurt me so bad to craft those words above, that the tears keep screwing up my vision-- and some are happy tears, mixed with sad.
I don't think I can write much more, but I will say this-- I've lived much, and seen much, and this I know-
You can call it whatever you want, but somewhere, out in the Universe, there is Something, that hates, and fears
Phillip K. Dick called it “The Form Destroyer,” and that's a good a description as any.
Best to avoid it...
My kindest regards, to you and yours...