Monthly Archives: November 2019

Cost – Writing Exercise

My heart beats faster, I feel lightheaded, I find my adrenalin surging … its grief. It sneaks around the corner without invitation and pulls from my heart. I can’t control it, it’s the cost of grief.

When I see a picture, hear a song, smell an aftershave or even when I write I think of you. I know it’s why I write now, to remember you and for others to remember you. To see if my feeling can help another who is stuck in their feeling. It’s the cost.

My train of thought, my momentum, my joy sometimes. These are my my payments, I hope it’s worth it. I hope that my pain really, really can help someone else because it’s hard sometimes. It’s real for me, this isn’t someone elses life or story. Actually we all face the death of a loved one at some point, I did, I will again, you will too. But that’s why I pay. To let you know that it can be OK again. There is hope of hope, comfort for pain, a Friend for the lonely. I am proof.

Don’t give up my friend, it’s OK, I will pay, we will pay together. Remember them, keep them close to your heart, it’s OK to cry, I cry. The dark period will end, one day you will see the light beconning you to come outside and bask… do it, it’s OK. One step at a time, it’s OK to limp, I limp, but sometimes I run. I even laugh without feeling guilty now, that used to cost me a lot, so much wasted energy went on guilt. That cost is way too high, don’t pay it.

I feel a bit calmer now I just had to write, I had to bleed a little in order to come down from a grief moment. I’m OK, I will live with the cost. I hope you will too.


Where There’s Smoke…

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A smouldering fire lingers just beyond our house. By day it burns slowly eating  through tree roots, by night we are veiled by it’s smoke, embers glowing, threatening to ignite. I just want it to end, for it to be over.

“Dense smoke resulting from slow or suppressed combustion.”* Smouldering fire, no warning, nor does it seek permission. It just lingers underground seeking my attention,  my energy, and my peace. 

Where there’s smoke there’s fire. Right? That’s what we have all been told, we see the warning signs and know there’s a problem. 

As I read about smouldering fires, my internet search suggested “Smouldering Myeloma” the disease I despise. My late husbands disease: it threatened, it lingered, it sought no permission. We saw the smoke, and it was too late. The fire had spread and spread and spread. 

This is not where I saw this blog going. This was going to be my thoughts about our recent bushfires. A follow on story to the last. I guess one tragedy stirs up another, a different follow on story. 

I felt dizzy and nauseous, caught completely off guard, that’s what grief can feel like, that’s “suppressed combustion”. It can’t be controlled or predicted. Smoke rising through the cracks, kindled by memories, moments and a million different everyday things. 

I let my guard down this afternoon, I breathed a sigh of relief, surely the worst was over. Within minutes siren shrills sounded and the neighbourhood sprung into action. The smoulder reared its ugly head. Grief can be like that, guard down, unsuspecting, then an ember is fanned into flames. The fire didn’t last long but it reminded me that it’s not over. You just never know. Grief can be like that too, it isn’t ever over. 

I can’t see it now but green shoots will spring from the ash and charcoal, it will take a while. As with grief, it doesn’t always threaten to destroy. If it’s dry enough, if it’s given enough fuel, it can go up. But after a good while not all the memories produce smoke, they become a salve, soothing, because I know I once held someone close that was special, beautiful, loving. It was real and alive. 

Grief reminds me that I have loved and been loved. It’s lasting and true beyond the years he walked beside me. Love that begets love. Because I knew that love I can know new love, I know what it should feel like. I feel it still and with another I feel it anew. It’s more than I could ever have hoped for. 

Smouldering fires will end, but love, it goes on forever.

 

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

 

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

EE Cummings
*https://www.dictionary.com/browse/smoulder


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