I finally had a break through with my writing yesterday, but I had to buy more tissues to soak up the resulting flood. I’ve been reading a memoir (H is for Hawk) about a woman (falconer) whose father died suddenly. She found herself wallowing in grief, so got herself a young goshawk to train, a species that is notoriously difficult to work with. Then she wrote a book about that time in her life. Part way through my reading, something clicked and now, finally, I have a structure and starting point for my own memoir. I’m well into the first chapter now.
A metal & stone sculpture from Japan just outside my window
What I realized at that moment of ‘clicking’, is that during my own journey over the past 20 months or so, I’ve been holding back a lot of my own grief, beginning with my dad’s decline early in 2016 and subsequent placement into an Alzheimer’s unit. My ailing 89-year-old mother, a difficult person at the best of times, insisted I care for her in her own home even though I lived 1000 km away. In the midst of these crises, a struggle to save my 40 year partnership failed, then most recently two sudden deaths – a beloved dog and my long-suffering mother. I defaulted to my usual pattern of avoiding the scary things piling up in front of me, trying to stay detached, calm, continue my plans for Tasmania, arrange and attend a funeral and simply get by day to day. It was time, finally, to face the grief and live with it.
A half box of tissue later, I’m on my way through the looking glass…. I am relieved and grateful that I can move ahead, even as I grieve my losses. I have experienced so many beautiful, surprising, spectacular moments over the decades that I know the work ahead of me will sparkle and intrigue as I thread each story-bead onto my memoir necklace.
Sailboats 101 practising manoeuvres, making me gasp as they keeled way over in the brisk winds across the estuary. Nobody dumped, not on my watch!
It seems this adventure came at just the right time!! looking forward to reading your book.
The pictures are amazing!!
“We did not ask for this room or this music. We were invited in. Therefore, because the darkness surrounds us, let us turn our faces to the light. Let us endure hardship to be grateful for plenty. We have been given the pain to be astounded by joy. We have been given life to deny death. We did not ask for this room or this music. But because we are here, let us dance.”
Love the quote, Lynda! It’s perfect and so true. Big hug back to you 🙂