It has happened to all of us. Someone in our life has died and our world slams to a halt. Sensations of texture, sound and taste are dull, as though a cloak of melancholy has been draped over the world. In the following days, memories run through our minds like home movies, replaying the moments we shared. At the end of time that’s really all we have left of the ones we love. Memories of perfect moments, each one of them a pixel in the picture of our lives.
As the weeks pass, we wonder how to move forward. Movement feels like slogging through mud. Over time, I suppose we each find our own way to shake off the lethargy and continue on with our lives.
But what am I to do if you were the inspiration for my current work in progress? The loss is staggering. How am I to keep from picturing your face as I write? You were my inspiration and my imagined audience all of these long nights of writing. Living the dream of never saying goodbye and the hope of tomorrow are what I’ve buried in the next logline.
How dare you say goodbye to me now?
As the days pass, the question in my mind begins to change: “How can I continue to write?” slowly morphs into “How will this change my story?” Because the story must still be told—the characters demand it.
And this one is for you. Fly high and rest with the angels. We will meet again one day.
How much has grief affected things in your life? Does life ever go back to normal?