Shadow Puppet Storyteller

Harsh Realizations

When my grandmother died, (and she had only been on one day of hospice, so it is difficult to remember if that made it more or less a shock -- more, due to her only surviving one day, or less, the understanding that hospice is preparing for the death) within a few sleepless hours I was writing in tribute to her.

My father died suddenly, at age 71, just two weeks ago. In the first week, I was able to list a half dozen memories of gratitude for our shared experiences, and I also wrote and published his obituary. I think these were good pieces of writing.

Two weeks, moving into a third, though and I am worried that I am not writing the stories.

I can write the details, the facts, but no one will be moved by a litany. That makes my writing an accomplishment, but not a draw. I need to know what I can do to write with a return of emotion, joy, even anger...It's not that I am not feeling anything, I'm just stuck in not expressing fully what I am experiencing, or am I? I don't even know.

So far, the only other things I have written down are realizations:

I feel like shredded taco meat, if shredded taco meat could feel itself being that hot, drippy mess that it is

I have always been a Journalist -- Today, I wanted to note down that I feel comfortable counseling myself through the early grief in the loss of my father, due to being a life long "journal-er". And in that moment that I hesitated to add the right sounding suffix to the word, it dawned on me that "journalist" was the apt title I had been denying myself

Both of these realizations say something about my appreciation of the blog format

The rest of the grief process needs time, whether related to my writing or avoidance of writing more.