This past weekend my brother-in-law passed away. He had been very unwell. My husband felt peaceful at his passing. There were tears as well. Then Charley took the time to pen the following on Facebook.
As a writer I am expected to be able to find the right words to express what is in the heart. Today as my brother died and slipped into the pages of ancestor lists and left me the lone survivor of everyone who completed my family when growing up (not counting cousins), I have no words to explain what I feel. I can only say it is nothing like I had imagined. I am thankful I am not alone, and I know I will never be alone. In a little while I will stop looking back at the ones who have passed, will turn around, and with the biggest smile look for what still lies ahead. I refuse to believe that I will ever reach “the point where life takes away more than it gives.” (Co-professor to Indiana Jones, last episode)
It may never win him a Pulitzer Prize but it does bring healing and closure for him. When my sister died I wrote her eulogy. It was only read to a few people who cared about our family. But it too brought healing.
Not everything writers pen sees the light of publication. Our gift of words serves many purposes. In times of loss it ministers to our souls. Even in times of trouble, trials and loss don’t desert your gift of words. Fill your journals with your emotions and memories. Let the grief and anxiety and confusion fill page after page.
When I pen my grief I feel a connection with my Heavenly Father that verbal communication can’t reach at this time. My lips may be silent but my heart is full. The grief needs to fall out of me onto paper. Some thoughts and feelings need not be expressed to another human. But my God sees those words and caresses me with understanding. Then as I write my impressions of that caress and the words I hear him whisper into the ear of my soul I find peace.
That peace may evolve into something publishable. If not. No matter. The sorrow of others will be easier to empathize with because I have written my secret needs in a letter to my Father in heaven. I know he can carry my friends and family through their grief as well.
Write for yourself while you go through tough times. Let your words be the key to your recovery.
RIP Kenneth Huff.
Do you use your gift of writing to sooth your own hurts or anxieties?
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