Good Grief 178

I found myself hacking away rather symbolically in the garden today.
Lot of thoughts crossing my mind about trying to work a way through, cut back, let light in. I ended up with so much cut back it was hard to find a way out again. As I looked at this geranium I wondered if we can only ever really love ourselves. I wondered if all our gestures, all our ways of being in the world and with others can only ever really be about a way of loving ourselves. Don't get me wrong ... I don't mean that in the selfish sense. But we can only operate through this body - this is the only mechanism by which we can be in the world. I wondered, if we don't love ourselves what hope is there. I wondered about all the distortions that we can fall foul of. They can be so very subtle.
And then I felt so very guilty. I had been thinking so much about my husband, about the feeling of perpetual loss. There is something about the blueness of this geranium and the sense of the perpetual suddenly, a sort of synesthesia as I look out across at their blueness. I had been thinking about how my husband had died on father's day and I had been thinking about the children and our conversations yesterday. But when I went onto blip I saw photos of fathers and blippers and their fathers and I felt so very guilty that I hadn't even thought about it being the first father's day that dad is no longer here. What a shit daughter.