Along the way, I received a stunning email from my brother. The one who said that he loves me and that he will respect my wish that no one cry at my funeral. So he will drop one tear, he said and stop. Actually, that will be the one that he will wring out of himself in sorrow. The flood will come after when he realizes what just happened and cry all night because he's laughing so hard. Wow, it's tough to stay on topic tonight. He sent me a story about a great aunt that we almost had but who died before it could come about. She was engaged to our Grandmother's brother. His name was Désiré Joyal.(Please notice the single "é" at the end.) He was in the army and he was on his way home from wherever it was that he had been assigned. I suppose that it was Europe and that it was WW 1. Anyway, he was on the ship returning to the US. He took sick. Went from bad to worse and then some, so he never made it back. This lady fell into a deep dark depression, never really recovered and some time later (I don't know how long) she too died. A real, historic story of a person dying from a broken heart. Now I know that this happens. Here's how. I saw quite a few people die from what the doctors would tell me is "hysterical depression." I haven't Googled this, so take it for what it is worth. I would see people, most of them female, and most of them, in fact all those whom I knew, less than thirty years old. Something would distress them so much that they would fold in on themselves and die in something less than a year. A couple of the girls who did this sort of thing did it because of a love gone awry. I am not aware that this happens much any more in the first world in which we live (or think we do), but it must. Anyway, I had to tell you the story because it is one about which we hear stories and hear songs, but rarely have to admit that it could ever happen to us. "Qui? Moi?"
So, that's it for tonight. I have to continue building the novena for this month. The novena to Our Lady of LaSalette. I do it online every month. If you don't get it but would like to spend a few prayerful moments, let me know. This month I am featuring the environment. After all, it is Springtime, right?
From:
ReplyDeleteJusta Kubarii -- Kabong!
Every generation somehow has this story of brokenheart fatality. When I came to know what love was there was a story of a neighbor lady who died of the same
thing broken heart. It was said that she loved this one guy who was in my clan
but the parents did not want this relative of ours. He could never go to see her
because the parents forbids it. She slowly withered away and died. My mom told me about it. This was after World War II. I was alive then, but by the time I came to know anything she was already dead. The whole island knew this a lot of lesson was learned by it. I told my Dad, bunches of squaws. Why did not the man stormed in that house and carry the woman out. My Dad said at the time respect for the desire of one's parents was very high in that Society.
He was sneaking to see her and they found out so they moved her to the outer island to some relatives. I could not be consoled. I ask my Dad if he would do that to us and he said no. I was already reading stories of European Romances and the American True Confession that my cousin brought. She was working at the only smal Radio Station on the Island. They were also using "wakie talkie kind" and morse code was used. dit da dit dit.
She said 88 was a symbol for love.
Thanks, Justa