Death in the family affects different people in different ways. Some are made more spiritual, some less so, some are left without feeling or emotion, some are given excess of it.
I do not fit neatly into any of the categories, because I fit into each at different moments, which perhaps means I do not fit at all.
The one thing that I find the need to do is to write, and I suppose that is the one thing that would bring me healing. The weather is all doom and gloom as I sit at my desk, but the pen is moving across the notebook, and that’s some light right there.
I’m sorry for your loss, Damyanti. I know pain brings out the best of art in some; I doubt it would be so for me, but your need to write speaks to a spirit which has need of voice, to express in its pain.
Sending a prayer and hug from across the seas.
Damyanti, I am very sorry. I am not a linear griever myself. It’s not the best time to hear different drums, but words on a page are a strange comfort that not everyone gets.
Take care of yourself.
Thanks, Annie…
Yes, light… good to see you back.