Beautiful! Love your writing, thank you for this one. The photo of age evident in the hands holding the mask, perfect. Glad I found you testing out substack.
Thank you for this powerful and personal reflection. My own mother died three years ago, and while our circumstances differ, I recognise the way memory, objects, and place continue to carry meaning. The image of the life mask, capturing a moment of youthful possibility, stayed with me. Thank you again for sharing this.
How proud of you the third Edward Mason surely was, and would be now as you begin the . . . ahem . . . journey of learning to say goodbye to saying goodbye.
The matching pair of closed-eyes smiles across decades are quite a vivid reminder that those who embraced and uplifted us continue to do so.
Thanks for sharing these poignant and relatable reflections, Ted.
After all was settled around me, I finally settled in to read your latest Mr.A. Thoughts of the place that death has had in my life percolated as your words penetrated. I once had a wonderful chat with Elisabeth Kubler Ross who opened my eyes to the mystery&wonder of life's final chapter. Likewise, I've gained understanding in my own grief journeys from Francis Weller among other authors. When the time is right, saying goodbye to 'goodbye' is a great concept worthy of repeating. I don't think we stop grieving until we ourselves are grieved.
This is really lovely. The face of the mask looks so young, almost a child, especially in the wizened, aged hands. You write beautifully and sincerely. Thank you for sharing this.
Beautifully written, as usual (I'd expect no less!) I am currently dealing with a parent with dementia, her body lives but the essence of what made that body "Mom" is long gone. While I was never close to my mother, I mourn...not the loss of what she was but the knowledge that what I so desperately wanted my entire life will NEVER be realized. You ALWAYS make me think Ted, and I love that about you!
Beautiful and powerful, Ted. As I think you know, I too was born to older-then-usual parents (one of the many things we have in common), so a lot of this was familiar to me. And the struggle to balance looking back with looking ahead is something I often wrestle with as well.
Beautiful! Love your writing, thank you for this one. The photo of age evident in the hands holding the mask, perfect. Glad I found you testing out substack.
Thank you, Ed. Grateful for your comment and for your presence here.
Thank you for this powerful and personal reflection. My own mother died three years ago, and while our circumstances differ, I recognise the way memory, objects, and place continue to carry meaning. The image of the life mask, capturing a moment of youthful possibility, stayed with me. Thank you again for sharing this.
Thank you, Peter. Memory, objects and place are foundational pillars for me. I'm glad we have found each other. We Anthonys have to stick together.
What a gorgeous, loving essay. I like this term: “mourning in advance.” I've also heard of it as rehearsal grieving.
Rehearsal grieving is more elegant. I may adopt that. Thanks, Katherine.
How proud of you the third Edward Mason surely was, and would be now as you begin the . . . ahem . . . journey of learning to say goodbye to saying goodbye.
The matching pair of closed-eyes smiles across decades are quite a vivid reminder that those who embraced and uplifted us continue to do so.
Thanks for sharing these poignant and relatable reflections, Ted.
Thank you, Alan! I'm always glad when something I write touches you.
Love these stories and photos ! Seems so long ago!!!but I treasure my friendship with them and you
Thank you, Sally — I treasure it too, and I'm grateful for the relationship you had with my parents.
Much appreciated. Both of my folks are also gone.
I have a papier-mâché mask of myself.
Maybe I should hang it up.
Thanks again.
Thank you for this. Definitely hang it up.
After all was settled around me, I finally settled in to read your latest Mr.A. Thoughts of the place that death has had in my life percolated as your words penetrated. I once had a wonderful chat with Elisabeth Kubler Ross who opened my eyes to the mystery&wonder of life's final chapter. Likewise, I've gained understanding in my own grief journeys from Francis Weller among other authors. When the time is right, saying goodbye to 'goodbye' is a great concept worthy of repeating. I don't think we stop grieving until we ourselves are grieved.
Insightful stuff here. Thank you.
If you haven’t read it, The Wild Edge of Sorrow (F. Weller) was so good I bought a copy for each of my sons.
This is really lovely. The face of the mask looks so young, almost a child, especially in the wizened, aged hands. You write beautifully and sincerely. Thank you for sharing this.
Thank you for reaching out! I’m glad it meant something to you.
Very moving.
Thank you, Janet. I hope I see you soon. And thanks for being such a good friend to my parents.
Beautifully written, as usual (I'd expect no less!) I am currently dealing with a parent with dementia, her body lives but the essence of what made that body "Mom" is long gone. While I was never close to my mother, I mourn...not the loss of what she was but the knowledge that what I so desperately wanted my entire life will NEVER be realized. You ALWAYS make me think Ted, and I love that about you!
Sam! Thank you. I always love hearing from you. I'd love to get lunch sometime and talk more about your mom and your experiences. Stay well.
Beautiful and powerful, Ted. As I think you know, I too was born to older-then-usual parents (one of the many things we have in common), so a lot of this was familiar to me. And the struggle to balance looking back with looking ahead is something I often wrestle with as well.
Thank you, Paul. Another object-based musing! Always appreciate when you read my stuff.
I loved reading this. What you feel as a "gaze," through an imprint of closed eyes, is a benediction.
I love that observation. And I'm glad you're on Substack now,