“…I’ve since evolved from the timid hope that someone will come over here and read my work and like it (and tell me so) to boldly inviting people to look at it. Hope wasn’t really working out very well. Inviting people works better. ” Continue
Life is occasionally interrupted by reminders of the direction we are all going. Make no mistake, we are all going to the same place. whether you call it heaven or hell or just 6-feet under, we are all going there. Alone. And, as far as I can tell, for good. The world ends permanently for people, one by one.
When a friend dies, a heavy gray shroud wraps itself around your life for awhile. Eventually it may slide off your shoulders and your life reappears as it was before, minus the love and friendship of the deceased. Well, maybe not the love. The love stays here with you and you can drum up memories and emotions and be enriched by the love that stayed here when your friend left. And your friend may seem to be lurking around near you, laughing at your folly or giving you strength when you are weak. That may be the love your friend left behind.
When a family member dies the shroud is black and heavy and does not slide off as easily. When it is a child who dies, I assume the shroud is never removed. Possibly occasionally, briefly, but it never leaves you completely. This is not just an interruption. It is a life changer. There is no recovery. The longing, mourning, aching and even dread are surmountable, I suppose, but the darkness within the shroud, the grief, is so enveloping, so stifling and airless it may seem unending. And it is. It would be. For me.
I’m back. Older, fatter and yes, smarter.
Not a day has gone by that I haven’t imagined myself sitting here, as I am now, blasting the author of some ridiculous opinion, some hideously crafted article (complete with misleading headline and obviously incorrect data) or a random comment heard accidentally in a conversation of which I was not even a participant. To be perfectly frank, sometimes it all comes down to a stupid Facebook post. I am constantly writing a response. In my head.
I think of writing nearly all the time. Whether it is a response to the above mentioned events or some evolving thought of my own which, as I am driving or pushing my shopping cart or cooking a meal or otherwise trapped somewhere without a keyboard, develops and snowballs in my mind until I am nearly chewing my teeth into dust because- as I said- I am so often trapped without a keyboard. Or, I have a keyboard but I am somehow, inexplicably, adhering to the rules of survival and actually working. It’s an FML kind of thing. I want to write. All the time.
Unfortunately (depending on my perspective at any given second), I have to shop, cook, work and otherwise fulfill my obligations as a wife, mother, grandmother, daughter, friend, blah, blah, blah.. you know the deal. You have the same deal, if you are lucky. If you don’t have the same deal, you are either unlucky or smart (…depending on my perspective at any given second).
So, I’m back. I have several blogs and websites. I have not even added up my annual expense to maintain these sites. I don’t care. I need them.
It’s nearly midnight and because tomorrow I am booked solid with events that do not involve writing in any way, I have to go to bed. It will take me 30 minutes to get to sleep once I get there because I will be crafting my second blog until I finally cark it for the day.
If I stay up and write, which is what I would rather do, my other events tomorrow will be attended with raw frustration and bitchiness. My second goal in life is to enjoy doing things that do not involve writing or wanting to write. It’s healthy. I need it. So I am going to bed.
In the words of the once revered and now scandalized ex-governor of California, I’ll be back. I promise me.