by Sheila Finkelstein on May 11, 2013
Throughout most of these posts my “Writing for Healing” has been around Sam, my beloved late husband, and the various emotions coming up around his no longer being here.
Given that tomorrow is Mother’s Day, I’m reminded of the healing writing I did 37 years ago, much of it on the airplane going back to her home in Florida to be with my father before coming back up to Philadelphia, her final resting place. I expanded on what I wrote on the plane and read it at the Memorial Service we had for her. Publicly sharing like that was another part of the healing process.
And, 37 years later, there still as a missing along with the deep love and gratitude for who she was that had me be who I am today.
SHE WAS MY BEST FRIEND – Remembering Eva Grubman Bakely 11-12-14 to 8-1976
Best friend to husband, daughter, sons;
Best friend to family, sisters, sisters-in-law, nieces:
To friends; to those to whom she gave of self;
To those in Al-Anon to whom she helped give a new lease on life–
an inner strength.
“Who is SHE?” she would have asked.
She was wife; she was mother.
Sometimes one was first, sometimes the other
But never self!
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by Sheila Finkelstein on November 24, 2011
Photo on Left is Charcoal Portrait of Sam Finkelstein done by Chester Bloom in 1961. Photo on Right is Sam in Restaurant at Dinner Party in November, 2002, prior to move from NJ to Florida in December.
The Gift of Sam – Eternally grateful for my beloved Sam
The gifts from Sam to me were, and are, countless, some beyond measure:
The gift of unconditional love,
The gift of me,
The gift of my being “Number 1”, always and forever in his life, his heart.
The gift of love beyond measure for me, his sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren
The gift of acceptance of what could not be changed
The gift of words, words that surface and sustain me even now, some from 51 years ago.
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by Sheila Finkelstein on December 27, 2010
I came across these random thoughts written on a pad as I walked in Green Cay a couple of months ago. Thought I’d add them here, since all writing, for me, adds to some form of healing.
Seeing loads of snail shells, large ones, out of their element, or is it me?
Breezes sweep past and caress my legs as I look out –
Cameraless, Partnerless, here at Green Cay.
Pad and Pen – Spaces for Tears.
Well, I let them come. No camera to hide behind tonight.
Feeling breezes again
Quick caresses on my legs.
Oh, how I wish they were yours, that you were here, my Beloved.
Spoonbill was on dry land, dried out spot –
Found way back to walk.
Only for me, dry land – wet land.
There is more to find here on Earth.
Anhinga is spreading his wings and don’t know why it is.
Is it you, my Darling, letting me know through your favorite bird that you’re here?
by Sheila Finkelstein on September 26, 2010
Today WRITING CAMP, my friend Morgine Jurdan wrote and read about a delectable meal she recently had. Beautifully described, missing, for me, was the bread soaking up sauce part she had told me about in an earlier phone conversation. After the call, I wrote:
Morgine’s bread soaking up the cream mustard sauce – doesn’t matter what the sauce – I see it, feel it, that piece of bread swelling with the fullness of the tasty moisture it is absorbing – all the cells getting full as its body is pushed around the plate to gather up all that is available in the plate of life to put into my gut.
“My gut” – Interesting I’m so harsh about it – “gut” sounds so heavy, almost ugly. What if it were into my “being” – gently, slowly, if I temper myself to taste morsel by morsel and allow myself to digest the treasures of the plate – slowly working their way through my boding, sensing the spaces they need to fill? It’s all liquid, absorbed and softened by the carrier, a healthy piece of bread, bringing out peace of mind, peace of body.
PS – Originally wrote “mustard sauce” and in editing added the “cream” (which had in reality been there). I was tempted to remove the “mustard” part. “Too tangy”, thought I. Then, “Silly, or not, maybe that’s what’s missing for you – the tanginess of life!”
If you missed the link to Morgine’s writing, see I Remember…, halfway down the post, for the meal writing to which I responded.
