rpadminSome people have asked us where our voice comes from, how have we learnt to write with empathy?
The sad truth is our voice is the result of personal loss. Of a parent not yet ready to go, of a beloved doggo who went before his time, of best friends of the exact same age taken by cancer. The grief, no matter how you have prepared for it, hits you like a brick wall. The finality of it all, there are no redos, no bonus memories, we are left only with the past tense.
We know how it feels to receive banal words of comfort, of being unable to relate to well meaning friends. All we want to do is to give in to our grief and wish if only we could somehow turn back the clock.
We know how grief weighs on our shoulders like a big, soggy rug as we get up and try to live life in the following days. Every step is laborious and we are totally sapped.
We know how it is when suddenly unbidden, a vivid memory of a precious moment flashes up and stabs us in the heart.
Grief stays for a long time, it cannot be banished. The only thing we can do is decide how we want to deal with our loss. How we continue living despite our loss. What are the choices we will make to give our life meaning. We choose to see beauty. We choose to be kind. We choose to be grateful. We choose to nurture. We choose to love.
What do you choose to honour the one you have lost?
