#writeingrief Round 2
I keep reading this prompt and hoping that I will figure out how to say the right thing. How do I say the thing that I need to say?
Will I ever learn to trust this process? Stop trying so hard to do it right? I know that I just need to follow the words. Just write. Just write crap. My only job in this is to write.
Stop stalling, Sami.
“And there may be many things we forget in the days to come,But this will not be one of them.” Brian Andreas, from Traveling Light: Stories & Drawings for a Quiet Mind
This line caught me right away on my first read through. I have written a bit about memory and remembering and forgetting. I have wondered whether I will forget my daughter, my babies, someday as an old woman. Will I forget my lost little loves? My children who died? If I do forget, what happens? What happens to the love if the person who loves forgets the love?
Do I need to go here? I’m not sure I need to go here. Maybe I just don’t want to know what I really think about that. Does love die? Does it disappear, sucked through holes in a diseased brain? Is the love wrapped so tight around every cell that it stays no matter what? It stays, holding on to the ash and the soot. It’s still there as the body decays and the earth and body become one and renew.
If that’s true then isn’t our world just one big ball of love? If love can hold on to each cell can hate? And what’s the difference?
And here I am with this Edgar Allen Poe quote that says, “We loved with a love that was more than love.” Well ok then. Shit. I just got completely distracted by Poe’s initials. Auburn’s girl name would have made her initials EAP. She would have shared initials with Poe--just a quick flip of Alaska’s initials AE.
Anyway. “We loved with a love that was more than love.” Yes. We did. Loved past tense, though? We still love. We love with a love that is more than love. So there. I still love my dead babies. I can do that, right? (Yes. I can.)
The prompt says to show you something of the one I love, of my life that was. I went straight to the grey and the love. Ashes and still love.
I’m trying to jump back to the life that was. It’s so hard to go there. I’m looking at her picture right now. Her alive body, the grey photo that held so much promise. It was the best place to be, but I can’t show you that because it’s gone. I can’t show you that promise because my little girl is dead. My babies are dead. And they are loved.