Many voice their amazement at my ‘strength’ to continue writing, I say it is my lifeline. I feel that if I don’t continue to write, I may drown in an ocean of sorrow. That I will be consumed by the grief that I feel and I will be of no value to those around me.
Because in the end, I have others, namely 3 young lads, that need their mama now, just as much as Capt Snuggles did then. When we told the boys of David’s passing the only thing Jacob asked me was “Does that mean you get to stay home now?” That question was almost as heart-breaking as the loss of David. Here are 3 boys already grieving because I have not been home for 5 months. For them David was already a ghost. My return, heralded as a return to normalcy.
So where do I begin? It’s awkward, to say the least. While it still looks like my house, it no longer feels like my house. During the luncheon on Thursday, someone asked me where something was – I looked around and realized – I had no clue. So much to re-adjust to. For my Hub and the boys, it was life as usual, albeit without me. Shopping, cleaning, school-work, someone other than me made sure it all got done. I idled in another world.
To be honest, I am being selfish in my writing. In the coming weeks I will need to let go of thoughts and images that are haunting me now. I will need to release myself of the weight of that last day, the weight and emptiness both, that this week has become. To do that, I will write and I will share. If you chose to read, it is because you agree to help shoulder some of the devastation that I feel. If you chose not to, I understand – it will not be a pleasant undertaking. It will be painful, for that I have no doubt.
So I don’t believe it is strength that keeps me writing, I think it is survival.
After Nathaniel passed away, I stopped painting. I was working on my Master’s Degree at the School of the Art Institute in Chicago. I was actively working on more than one public mural, along with paintings meant for upcoming gallery shows. In a word, I was good. But, I walked away from the only life I knew at that time. I couldn’t bring myself to even attempt to create another painting that would bring enjoyment to someone else, let alone enjoyment to me.
I just couldn’t do it.
I used to say, I was waiting for an epiphany. Maybe that’s what I’m working through here. The realization that I can’t walk away from something that is an integral part of my life. I can’t deprive myself of the enjoyment of something simply because life doesn’t seem fair. Or that I need to punish myself because I couldn’t do anything to save either one of my sons.
I think I just had my epiphany.