I hope this post finds you well. This week has been the epitome of this time of year. I’m functional, but floundering. As ever, I will be glad when Easter and the first couple of weeks of April are over. Then I will be on my way towards being fully human again.
I wasn’t sure I was going to write today, but thought I’d better, just so you didn’t think I’d fallen off the face of the earth. The irrational way in which I respond to any mention of Easter still takes people aback, and to be perfectly honest, it annoys me too. However, I’m not sure how to deal with it more rationally, because the feeling remains. Hence the title ‘Vehemence, variance and poetry in grief’.
Posting may well be sporadic between now and Easter, but I will try to share what I can when I can, and hoping to stay afloat in the meantime. One day, this time of year will not reduce me or defeat me. I look forward to that day.
With regard to the Remembering Our Online Friends event on the 6th of April, I intend to use the Twitter hashtag #ROOF for tweeting about the event. If you will be tweeting about it, it would be good if we could use the same one.
Right now, I’m going to share a poem I wrote a week or so ago, which highlights the nature of this experience for me. It may be different for you than it is for me, but I hope that we can all share something of this journey together.
Most of the time, I move forward:
Doggedly, stoically dragging the experience behind me.
I make progress to a point, and then it suddenly stops.
I wonder whether it’s worth all this time.
It has been with me for a long while now,
And I either want to free myself from it
Or redefine my connection to it.
I’m not sure which just yet.
My rational mind says ‘Turn your back,
Don’t worry, walk on. It will fall away.’
Emotionally, that is hard to accept,
because I want it to fall away, and I don’t.
I would gladly leave behind the detail,
If I could just have the memories I want,
Remember what she was to me,
Which was more than the way she died.
Then I step back from my thinking,
And realise that I am where I began.
The nature of grief is no more than small circles.
Wishing you peace and strength on your journeys,