I’m feeling some peace on my morning walks

#032: it’s been a roller coaster week

For the past week or so, I’ve been taking morning strolls in Green-Wood Cemetery. Reading the various tombstones and urns and respecting the rich lives of those at the cemetery have strangely brought me a lot of peace. With over 843 unique varieties of trees along the 478 acres, Green-Wood Cemetery not only represents death, but also holds ample space for life.

I thought that the anticipatory grief I had been feeling for the last year and a half would allow me to prepare for the moment my dad’s health would slip to an urgent concern. I was an amateur for thinking that I’d be prepared. There’s absolutely no amount of preparation that can be done to be ready.

He had a medical issue last week that brought him to two different ERs and endless tests and procedures. I talked to too many doctors to count on the phone acting as the interpreter daughter and also collected some semblance of control through knowledge. My patience was tested and my body experienced levels of exhaustion that, when more definitive news came, crashed in a 15 hour slumber.

I’m not prepared, I’m not prepared, I’m not prepared. How can one be?

At many points throughout the week, the thought of canceling the art show crossed my mind. At times, the disappointment over that made me cry even harder. I felt guilty for feeling disappointed and that made me cry even harder, hahaha. For now, it’s looking like we’ll keep the art show as-is, but uncertainty still lingers in the air and there may be a chance it’ll need to be canceled. There’s anticipatory grief in that too.

It’s a short newsletter for today. I just really felt a need to connect with you and write.

👋🏻 Thank you for reading. Be kind to yourself and your loved ones, always.

• Leave a comment with something unconventional you do to bring you peace.

• A quote: “‘What is a game?’ Marx said. ‘It’s tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. It’s the possibility of infinite rebirth, infinite redemption. The idea that if you keep playing, you could win. No loss is permanent, because nothing is permanent, ever.’” — From “Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow” a novel by Gabrielle Zevin

• A podcast episode: In the Garden with Ocean Vuong hosted by Sam Smith

  • “Ocean Vuong first shared his poetry at open mics in New York City. Since then, he’s become a New York Times best-selling author and is one of the most celebrated poets, essayists and novelists of our time. In this emotional interview, Ocean joins Sam to chat about the women who raised him and how he copes with loss. He also shares his journey to success and how he’s paying it forward by creating an art residency for his queer community.”