I hope this post finds you well. Of all the posts I’ve made here so far, it may be the most mundane and stupid, but on the other hand, it seems to express the ways in which grief can catch us unawares.
Last night, I was looking through my notebook shelf (heck, yes – I’m a writer, after all!) for a new book to use during a poetry workshop I’m attending on Monday. I’m rather looking forward to it, if only as an opportunity to learn to separate poetry and grief work. The two seem to go together quite well for me, as you no doubt know.
Much to my surprise, I looked through my notebooks, and rediscovered two old journals which were full of my early writings about this journey. That is to say, before I started this blog, I used to journal about this experience every night. It became a case of ‘You write, you sleep. You don’t write, you don’t sleep.’
Now, there may be no problem with that, but what made last night difficult was this. I realised that I had used a number of notebooks which I would consider ‘best’ notebooks to document this. What a waste.
The difficulty lies in the fact that I have filled all those pages with thoughts I don’t want to keep. I recognise that I wasn’t thinking straight at the time, but it seems so incredibly wasteful to use those notebooks for something that I will never look back on fondly. I have unwittingly created a monument to my grief experience.
Part of me wants to explore the idea of whiting out some of those pages, and beginning anew. On the other hand, because of the content, they’ve almost become sacred. I find it quite irritating, but such is grief, I suppose. I will work out a way through it, and I will accept that it may take time to do so. (But, it may take time to accept that.)
I’d be interested to know whether I’m the only one who has created ‘souvenirs’ of my grief experience in this way. Please feel free to share your experiences in the comments.
Wishing you peace and strength on your journeys,