from Textbook by Amy Krouse Rosenthal

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Bye. I love you. Thank you. In a lastcall, sincere, farewell moment, those are the six words that would fall out of my mouth. p 315

Are you ready to throw in the towel? Who’s with me? Maybe some of you lost a dear friend last week and attended the funeral. Odds are some of you probably did. Maybe others of you have a friend, as I do, who recently lost a pet. But even if you didn’t experience those things, many of you probably read the Modern Love piece about a wife wanting to find someone for her husband, Jason. And we learned our beloved AKR is dying from ovarian cancer and I just…

That’s been my way this past week. I can’t even put my grief into words. I thought we made a pact that 2017 wasn’t going to be so hard on us. That 2016 had taken our beloved icons and now we had come to the end of it. Now I’m beginning to wonder if David Bowie, Prince and Carrie Fisher put out a secret Bat Signal and people are sneaking out to this new planet or even a new dimension. I’m hoping it’s a intergalactic game of Sardines and I’ll find everyone soon and we’ll all smoosh tight together behind the livingroom curtains and enjoy the nearness of each other while being very, very quiet.

Except I don’t think the abovementioned are capable of being quiet. They are loud, they are flamboyant; they were everything I’ve secretly wanted to be. And they are leaving this world too too soon.

I can’t deal with all this loss; this pain and agony. Now I feel like a toddler. I want to throw a tantrum, stomp my feet and say “No you can’t go. There are too many books left to write.” But we’ve already got a toddler in charge—a boss baby come to life—and that’s not helpful. Kicking and flailing on the floor isn’t really an answer.

So what can we do? Love. Remember. Read her books. In fact, spend some time with a child. Read some Anna Dewdney and dig up some Trina Schart Hyman. Marvel at the words, their art, they way these books fit in your hand with your child sitting there snuggling in your lap. Like it was somehow meant to be.

Cry. Laugh. Go through all the emotions. Think that life’s too short. Marvel and wonder at the world while you still can. Even today when it seems to be falling apart. Especially now.

One thought on “from Textbook by Amy Krouse Rosenthal

  1. Hugs to you. The world, does, indeed feel heavy with grief. I wake up every morning with it, then take a deep breath and try to find some beauty. I hope you can do. And if I can every help you, all you have to do is whisper… xo

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