breathing again

Oct 1, 2018

Earlier this year I had begun to write about grief after the loss of far too many friends and family in very short period of time. I discovered it is one thing to intellectualize the process and yet another to experience. When my mother died suddenly on June 30 my writing slowed to a trickle. I still have a need to express myself through the written word, I simply could not make it happen. I continue to write my morning tweet poem using my mother's memory as fuel to push on. My head swims with so many words that need to be released from the cranial prison, yet my body and soul are not cooperating. Why? In the past when I wrote I would share it with my mother either first thing in the morning on our morning phone call or last thing at night when I walked the dog. Often she would praise the imagery that my words conjured in her. Sometimes she would not get the meaning at all yet would comment on word choices. I miss those moments of connection. I miss those moment of having someone who lovingly looked upon my work with compassion and appreciated that effort if not the aesthetic. Without my mother in the world I do not know that I will ever be understood. My head cheerleader and president of my fan club is no longer here. Even in middle age I am like many children in seeking the approval and support of a parent. I had that for so long a may have begun to take it for granted. And now it is gone. Now, 3 months after the great departure the tears have slowed, the waves of grief have more calm space between them. I can sit and breathe easier and see that someday maybe someday soon I will sit down and write again. First I will take a moment to breathe.

Dreamcatcher BF
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