The theme of this blog is writing and life. And how the two often intersect. It's hard for me to remember a time when I didn't write. When I was seven, my father won a Smith Corona portable typewriter in a poker game. It came with 45 rpm records that taught typing skills. I sat at the kitchen table, found the home keys and began to practice. And I've been writing stories and poems ever since.
Last weekend I attended my aunt's funeral in Delaware. It was an emotional time for my family, especially my cousins. There are not many passages as painful as losing a mother. And one grief has a way of bringing up all the other losses we've experienced. As I gave my eulogy for my aunt, I mourned my own dead parents and brothers again. But I also realized how fortunate we writers are to be able to put thoughts and feelings into words. Stories have a way of sustaining us through the difficult times in our lives. This much I know to be true. The dead are alive when we think of them. And grief is the price we pay for love. A steep price, but well worth it.
Last weekend I attended my aunt's funeral in Delaware. It was an emotional time for my family, especially my cousins. There are not many passages as painful as losing a mother. And one grief has a way of bringing up all the other losses we've experienced. As I gave my eulogy for my aunt, I mourned my own dead parents and brothers again. But I also realized how fortunate we writers are to be able to put thoughts and feelings into words. Stories have a way of sustaining us through the difficult times in our lives. This much I know to be true. The dead are alive when we think of them. And grief is the price we pay for love. A steep price, but well worth it.
RSS Feed