Sunday, August 14, 2005

"Noble" post link fixed and other things to get off my chest

Listening to: Rilo Kiley, More Adventurous

Today's email brought a comment by Hellonwheels regarding my Noble posts, that she couldn't find part II - V.

Since the fuckwits at Blogger can't develop a "read more" function that can be selectively applied to posts, I was forced to post my Noble entries in the archives. I finally changed the date signatures on the posts so if you've only read Noble, Part I, you can read the remaining posts.

Bullshit Blogger also sends me comment alerts without letting me know what post the comments are attached to. Normally that's not a problem since most everyone only comments on recent posts but Hellonwheels posted somewhere in the archives and it would have been close to impossible to find it.

Fortunately, her email gave me enough information so that I could hunt her down with searches and the effort was well worth it. Hellonwheels told me in her email that she also lost a child and directed me to her heart-wrenching series of "Jacob Poems". Go there if you're prepared to cry... I was moved, devastated, and I'm still not done reading everything on her site.

That is a recommendation, BTW. I'm glad she found me out so I could find her out. And I hope she gets back here to finish reading about Noble.

2 comments:

vicki said...

Whenever I want some good emotionally intense and draining reading, I say to myself: "Myself? Go see Jim and he'll have something." And then I come over here. You know I read all of Noble and suffered a fraction of your pain and loss and just that helped me understand what that was like. I just read all of Jacob's poems. The eloquence and power and beauty of some people's grief is stunning. It also helps us stay connected to an important part of life, which is loss and death. Thank you for this link, Jim

MsShadow said...

Oh my goodness, I just NOW found this post. Your email to me went to my gmail, which I rarely ever check. Thank you so much for the recommendation, and I'm so touched both by what you said, and also Vicki.

My grief is 23 years old now, but my niece who just lost her 6 month old baby, who, much like Jacob, spent most of his life in the hospital just wrote to me tonite. It comes back so easily. I know that it doesn't help for her to hear "it does get better", but I hope my words can help her in some small way.

Thank you again, both of you. Hopefully, you'll get this, Jim. And I'll click on you, Vicki!