Europe France French Life: France grief loss love Notre Dame Paris resilience
by maribeth
Comments Off on On Notre Dame, Loss and Love
On Notre Dame, Loss and Love
Notre Dame de Paris
Up Close
Closer
So much has been said, written and felt about the devastating fire that ripped through Notre de Dame de Paris three weeks ago that I’m not sure there’s room to add more. Yet like the loss of a loved one, it is healing to process the pain throughout the weeks, months and years beyond the initial shock. As with death, this tragic event will always leave a hole in our hearts, since many of us did suffer a huge sense of loss, particularly on the emotional front.
For me, it brought up so much on so many levels. Le choque, or the shock, of this magnificent Gothic cathedral catching on fire was what first hit me. Utter disbelief that quickly gave way to a flood of tears. The unthinkable had happened. I remembered staring at her magnificent flying buttresses at length on a homework assignment for my Architecture de Paris course when I did my junior year abroad in Paris. Those old stones had already lived well for centuries; there was no reason to think that they would not endure centuries more. And then when I settled into living in Paris for another ten years, Notre Dame was a constant–as much as the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, the Champs-Elysées, the rabbit warren streets of the Latin Quarter, the cafés of the Left Bank and so many other parts of the French capital that are quintessentially Parisian.
Romance & Relationships: aging parents dealing with the death of a parent grief life loss love mother/daughter relationships
by maribeth
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Be Not Afraid
My Father on Lake George , New York in 2008
It has been just over four weeks since my father passed away. Even though I have been almost frightfully composed, I still feel like I’m in a blur. I think I’m in the midst of processing so much.
I do want to broadcast, however, to not be afraid. My father almost died on the eve of the millennium, then in 2008 and then at the end of 2014. So I had plenty of time to ponder his eventual passing. Plus, he was 89 years old. Yet even with this mental preparation, I always imagined I’d be in pieces upon hearing the news and then, of course, at his funeral and then in the days and weeks that followed. But no, I’ve felt a calm and resiliency that has surprised me.
I mean it–be not afraid. Do not live in fear of something that will come, something that you have no control over. Those heartbreaking moments do happen in our lives and it’s unproductive to anticipate–with dread–how we will handle them. We all have an inner strength that knows no boundaries. For me, I feel that my father’s passing has helped me to get in touch with the stuff I’m made of–I am Frank Angelo Clemente’s daughter.
He was a devoted family man, an accomplished businessman and un passionnée of skiing, tennis, exercise, food, Broadway show tunes, the English language and even French. But most of all, he was extremely kind and steady, compassionate and thoughtful and always appreciative and grateful for what he had and for what other people did for him.
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Colorado Romance & Relationships Skiing & Snowboarding Telluride: childhood memories father/daughter relationships grieving loss ski lessons Skiing & Snowboarding Telluride Ski Resort
by maribeth
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Goodbye to Dad
Dad Taking His First Look at the Grand Canyon in 2010
Yesterday was a tough day. From the first look at the notifications on my phone, I woke up sad about the news of the terrorist attacks in Belgium. My heart goes out to Belgium, my Belgian friends, Europe and to all of humanity in general. It’s hard not to feel down about the state of world affairs today.
I headed out to ski–to teach a lesson to a little boy I had been with the past few days–and experienced the worst day on the mountain of this season. It was windy, icy and horribly bleak. Fortunately I was skiing with a joyful six-year-old who was thrilled to be on the hill, no matter the conditions.
We stopped for a hot chocolate break. I settled my little guy into his seat at the table with another instructor and his young charge. Just as I was plopping the marshmallows into the chocolate at the beverage counter, I got the call. Yes, THE CALL. The one I had always dreaded, the one that informed me of the passing of my father. It was, of course, from Mom. We spoke no more than a couple of minutes and although this was unexpected news, I got it right away. Mom and I connected on this and then we let each other go.
I almost passed my boy off to another instructor but I decided to keep him; I chose to complete my assignment, largely because we had done some serious bonding and I didn’t want the last part of his Telluride Ski School experience to be with someone new. I shed some tears with other members of my Ski School family while my little dude twirled ice cubes in his frothy drink. We then headed out to ski.
