Writing on the blog is deeply personal. I imagine I sit you down, offer you tea, hold your hand and look you in the eyes. Whilst you may read this and throw it away, or never think of it again, I think of it every day. The power of you sitting with me, and giving me space to share my thoughts.
Hopefully dear reader, by the time that this post is up, my essay will have figured out how to write itself, references will be arranged alphabetically in a long list and it will submit itself.
Friends are like stars: you don’t always realise they are there, but they are always shining.
A thought provoking and beautiful piece from our friend from the Instagram family. Head over to Lynn’s Instagram page for beautiful art inspired by grief.
There is no consolation for missing someone who can’t come back, but there are things you can do to feel closer to your person, and I am thankful to be able to continue something that we both loved together.
As a little girl I loved doing things for my mother. Whether I gave her a drawing, a homemade gift, or a surprise breakfast, she would tell me I was so sweet and thoughtful and clever and artistic and creative and smart and wonderful in every way. And, being the trusting little child that I was, I believed it. (This was long before “self-esteem” was the buzz-word that it is today.)
I know it seems that this pandemic will never end, particularly as it follows us into a new year. But please know that you are not alone in your struggle, and this will pass. You will see that there are so many reasons to live.
But that’s grief, isn’t it? It comes when you least expect it. When you find a video you sent to your mum, of you in a pyjama set she bought you, tucked in a bed she kissed you goodnight in, cuddling the cat you both loved so much together.
There’s a small scar above my left eye, a keepsake from the time my sister and I tried to dig our way to China. I don’t remember the exact thought process that led to this bold venture, but since I was 5 and she was 13, I’m sure our reasoning was perfectly sound. I’m also sure that living in southeastern Idaho played a role in the decision because 1) We had nothing else going on, and 2) Local authorities hadn’t yet enacted any laws against minors procuring gardening shovels, ladders, and gas lanterns, and 3) There were plenty of other kids around who were eager to help (probably because we promised them fields of free fortune cookies upon job completion).
All my love and support,