Grief Be Damned. Is That A Glimmer Of Hope I Feel?

I’m sure you’ve noticed the articles I’ve posted recently aren’t my typical reflective, thought-provoking essays. Writing the stories about my winter-time trip to Minnesota brought back fond memories of writing feature articles for a newspaper. Those articles were relatively simple.

But I’ve had a difficult time writing about other events of my life and how I relate them to the world at large. Even my freelance work has suffered. I put projects off until I absolutely MUST get them done, which does not result in my best work.

Dealing with the grief of losing my oldest son has not been easy. I’m usually okay. But every now and then, something happens that leads me right back to the moment my son, Evan, took his last breath. I feel like someone has gut-punched me and then the tears flow.

The other day, I was sifting through our financial records in Quicken and came across the charges for the movies and music CDs I ordered before Evan went into the hospital to try to entertain him while he recovered from his surgery.

I played them, but I’m not sure if he heard them.

I’ve been using my personal writing as a way to help me sort my feelings out. I took a writing seminar on “Writing Through Grief and Loss” and had one of those woo-woo experiences that reinforces my belief in spirits and angels.

One of the exercises was to write a letter from the person you were grieving to yourself. At first, I couldn’t even think about it. There’s no way I’m going to be able to do that. I never knew what Evan was thinking. He couldn’t tell me.

But, one day, I sat down at the computer and let my fingers hop across the keyboard. I don’t think I was even aware of the words I was typing until I went back later and read them.

What I wrote helped me feel closer to Evan and helped me feel less sad about losing him. He is happy. He doesn’t want me to be sad. He is with me all the time. When I hear geese honking as they fly overhead or a windchime jingle in the breeze, that’s him letting me know he’s around.

Another thing I’ve been doing is writing a monthly column on grief for the Madison County, Ohio, Board of Developmental Disabilities monthly newsletter. I am a member of that board. So far, I’ve written four pieces. Sometime I’ll republish them here.

Bottom line is … I’ve been busy. But I don’t feel like I’ve accomplished much.

How do you keep going when you don’t feel like it?

Really! I’d love to hear how you do it.

I’ve been reading books on grief, going to online seminars about grief, and even taking classes to help me write through my grief. I’m beginning to get tired of the grief.

I can tell that I’m healing because I’ve started to knit and crochet again. But even that comes with its landmines. I was sifting through some of my dozens of totes containing yarn and my UFOs (Unfinished Objects), and I came across the pair of slippers for Evan that I was crocheting last year while I sat in the hospital with him after his surgery.

One slipper was done and the other about half done. I remember stuffing it into a bag after Evan died, never wanting to see it again. After I found the project a few weeks ago, I considered frogging (ripping out) the partially completed pair but didn’t have the strength.

Other signs of healing are the hanging baskets and planters filled with flowers that now adorn our deck–for the first time in two years. I feel happy when I look out at the many colors and listen to Evan’s wind chime tinkle.

I wouldn’t say I’m healing as much as I’m developing scar tissue over my wounds. The pain will never go away, but I feel happy again.

You all have been an important part of my journey. I thank you for supporting me and for staying around even when I couldn’t be here myself.

Until next time,

Susie from Stix-N-Stonez

P.S.–What would you think if I started sharing some of the flash fiction (short stories) that I’ve written? Would you be interested in reading any? Just let me know in the comments below or email me at susie@stix-n-stonez.com