Sniffles....

Randy felt them coming on yesterday ...Now I am feeling them ughhh, well at least this probably means we won't be sick for Thanksgiving ..... and maybe, just maybe, we will make it through Christmas sick free, wouldn't that be nice....
Some bad news on my blogroll I don't know how many of you keep up on my blog lists butI came home last nigh to read this update from I am Not ashamed of having infertility-just pissed is in the hospital and will probably loose her twins .. I don't know her, other than reading her blog for the past year or so. she was one of the few people that I was able to hear about being pregnant with twins ( most of the time I just want to crawl in a hole and cry forever when I hear of someone pregnant with twins, yes its still that raw for me)and could be excited for... anyways her and slutboy as she refers lovingly to her husband, are now probably loosing their twins, and probably her last chance at having a child of her own, she is in the hospital right now....... Please keep them in your prayers .

Also uppercase womans blog post 'Riptide' about losing her boys 4 years ago really hit home with me, she writes so well on what grief feels like 4 years later...... I like her Buddhist ideal and really hope the same for Wyatt, Tegan and Taylor and my niece Korina and all the other little lost babies may they all be sitting in Gods lap as we read this ... Its strange how some time the tears just hit, like just now...... I still can't write their names with out breaking out in tears...

Ok one more thing this poem was on Geepatty's weblog and is now on crashcourse widows blog too........ I don't even have words to say how I feel about it i will just say its perfect. It's for losing a spouse but I think it really fits all grief..... Here's the poem, I am off to do the dishes, odd how a post about sniffles turns into a post about a different kind of sniffles..Really I am fine now, its just that those moments still happen ..

Funeral Blues by W.H. Auden

Stop all the clocks,cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking
with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message
He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round
the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever:
I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now:
put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.