It’s time to part ways, my dear Viola.
You’ve been good to me, and I’m not making this decision lightly. You helped me…
…experiment, figure out whether I’m a writer (answer: yes)
…process my shit—the grief, loss, anger, guilt and (personal favorite) despair that come with the bereaved mother package
…share what’s ‘really’ going on—neither family nor friends were always thrilled to see the darker side of my journey, but I sorely needed witnesses to the pain
…speak my truth—before I was either strong or confident enough to own it and use my real name
Why now?
Writing is still part of my path, but it’s no longer a blog. I’ve posted infrequently this year, as life settles into my “new normal” and work continues coming my way. I need to carve out time to write, to manifest what’s been kicking around in my head, and it’s not Viola material.
My story beckons—it’s a good one—and I may finally have enough distance to start. I’m also working on a children’s book, what happens when your best friend dies. Not your typical children’s book topic and long shot for publication perhaps, but children do lose friends, not just grandparents or pets, and it needs to be done. A couple other projects are also kicking around that may or may not go anywhere and they also need my attention.
I’ll miss you V—because of you, I’ve learned to frame pain and difficult emotions as potential posts. For example, walking to the PATH station just this past week, I realized I pass no fewer than three schools. An elementary school is first, reminding me of an “if only” alternative present; then a preschool/day care, bittersweet memories of my past with a 4-year-old dancing across its windows; and lastly, a private boy’s prep, each dark-haired, awkward teenager a taunt from a future taken away. Day-to-day living still provides plenty of practice opportunity for ‘pain without suffering’.
Despite the mixed feelings, in my heart I know I need to make it official, say goodbye and free myself up, at least for now.
Thank you friends and family, for your support, belief in me and my writing, and for reading even when it made you cry.
And thank you random folks, who just came upon my little outpost of grief and hope. Not everyone understands why I open up my veins, bleed all over the page and put myself out there, time and again. Thank you for getting it.
Good things are coming my way. I just need to get off my ass and make them happen.
