Tues. April 16, 2013: Grief

Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Waxing Moon
Saturn Retrograde
Sunny and pleasant

To think, yesterday started so well.

I mean, 3700 words on the new book. LOIs. Follow-up on the LOIs from January (and gaining some immediate positive responses. 10 pages on the next non-fiction book up in the queue (that will be traditionally published). I percolated on the play that’s due at the end of May, and started thinking about the appointments I need to set up in NY.

And then — the explosions at the Boston Marathon. We’ve had non-stop coverage, of course, on all the channels. Which would be great if there was actual news to report, and they didn’t just retread the same ground over and over and over again. There needs to be a limit to how often a piece of tape depicting a disaster can be rolled.

The latest numbers this morning are 3 dead, over 140 injured. It’s just appalling. It reminds me too much of incidents in NY. I’ve been crying off and on since it happened, then feeling guilty about being so upset, because I’m fine out here, and so far, everyone I’ve managed to track down (there are still a few outstanding) are safe, too. There are plenty who are worse off than I am. I alternate between the pain and the numbness of grief, yet I’m also aware that it’s more abstract for me than for people with direct experience, the same way that, when I was directly impacted by other events (losing people I knew and cared about), it was abstract for others. The rational and the emotional sides haven’t aligned yet.

Sat outside this morning, with Tessa and the first cup of coffee, just grateful for the sunshine and the bird song of the moment.

On a completely different topic, Penny Estelle is my guest today over on Biblio Paradise, talking about her latest release, Hike Up Devil’s Mountain. In spite of everything that’s going on, I hope you’ll stop by and drop her a comment — she’s also doing a giveaway.



  1. Tough morning for everyone, I imagine. We’ve located family and friends, so it’s a much better morning here than in palces where the loss hit hard.

  2. Don’t feel bad about the reaction. You have a right to feel the way you do. WTC memories are still there and now this. It’s rough, but the upside is that you are still thankful for a sunny day. I am also. In these horrific times, I vow to love every minute of every day. My sister’s SO is a marathon runner, thankfully he didn’t sign up for Boston, but I also have friends there. Luckily they are all safe. Hope yours are also now. Hang in there.

    • It’s rough. I hoped maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as initial reports, but, unfortunately, it’s worse. Just taking it moment by moment.

  3. Such senseless tragic events come as such a shock. I was laughing at something the dog had done when I switched on the TV and saw the news breaking.
    I hope your friends are safe.

Comments are closed.

<span>%d</span> bloggers like this: