For weeks, I’ve been standing in an imaginary knee deep scenario, stuck. My knees aren’t really stuck, but my writing is.
My post about the fair was preceded the exact same morning with three hours of writing. The post I was working on contained the subjects of “I don’t know how to this!!! I don’t know how to write about loss one day and normal stuff the next.”
Those words did not flow out easily. I yanked and pulled and made them come out. They were about:
- what it’s like to talk about loss and crying and missing someone, then not knowing how to change the subject
- what it feels like to be stuck in not knowing how to be a carefree type of writer that now feels strapped to loss one minute then wanting to share about travel the next
- about being a good writer like my great grandma, while at the same time, not knowing how to carry forward in this blog and feeling a bit vulnerable because I’ve shared a lot and don’t know how to continue writing
I did not hit ‘publish’ on that post. Instead, I hit the backspace button and erased every single word. Immediately afterwards, I wrote the post about the fair and sent it off into the world.
Why did I back the other post out?
It just didn’t feel right.
I couldn’t get the words to match what I wanted to say.
Bottom line: I’m trying to find my way in my writing. I am finding my way through loss. I just need to find my way somehow in both.
Thank you for reading. You’ve been so great in offering support during all this. I appreciate it so very, very much.
❤️ Jessica
but she found her way home
© COPYRIGHT 2022 Unmeasured Journeys
** all writing and photos are mine
Unmeasured Journeys 
❤❤ Squealer and that bloom compete here for beauty in this blog post Jessica. They are great diversions to the rigors of everyday life, these days made worse and tarnished by grieving. P.S. Tell that rascal Squealer to stay put!
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You’ve got a wonderful way with words!! Thank you so very much. Tarnished is a great word. Thank you- I’ll tell Squealer you said to stay put!! She’s an ornery thing. Sweet and cute, but ornery.
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Thank you Jessica – yes tell Squealer the grass is NOT always greener on the other side!
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Hopefully she’ll listen!!
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I’m standing by to cry with you or rejoice over a good day. Please keep writing so we know how you are.
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Oh my goodness, that is the sweetest thing EVER. Made me tear up. I think writing and life right now parallel in the ‘going on, without’ part. You may relate, since you’ve experienced mother loss. I appreciate you so much! Thank you.
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I lost my mother some time ago and my husband recently. I did not have the kind of grief you have, and I want to feel yours and be with you when you need a hug. They say we all grieve differently, and that is so true. If I can help by being here and praying for you, I will be diligent. No one should have to mourn alone.
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Thank you very much. I have heard that we all grieve differently, but never really understood it until this loss. Thank you for being here for me. Means a lot. I see now that my experiences aren’t necessarily other’s experiences. Being in this offers a bit of tunnel vision. Thank you for the clarity.
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I had to laugh that you spoke of vision and clarity in consecutive sentences. About a year ago a leak in one retina made me feel like I was wearing someone else’s glasses. This has changed my life, especially for driving, reading, and opening things. I shall strive for mental clarity and keep on walking with you.
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Oh my gosh! I remember you had an eye thing going on, but didn’t know exactly what! Thank you for walking with me. For awhile, people checked in to see how I was doing in this. Friends texted and things. That’s pretty much halted. Makes it kind of lonely. My siblings and dad are in similar grief, so we lean on each other, which is nice. I appreciate you being here!
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My children began to call at least once a week after John died. Three months later they still check check in. It’s lovely. I would never have asked it of them.
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Your children seem to be amazing people. Your posts about how they’ve helped with the house and yard and things are admirable. Taking care of their mom. How nice that they call often. I call or text my dad often, too. Going to see him next week. We are 8 hours apart. I miss him so much, it makes me teary at times.
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That’s great that you’re going to see your dad soon.
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Thank you. I get so very homesick. When I get super weepy and cry a lot, I’ve learned it’s time to go home.
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It’s good you know that about yourself.
If I get frustrated, I know it’s time for a nap.
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Love that!!! Naps are the best!
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I used to write a lot more on my blog, but now all I can manage is posting photos. On Sept. 30 it will have been 2 years since my husband died after a long illness, and I was not able to grieve him because the day before his funeral I had to begin taking care of my father. My dad died last November, and I was immediately plunged into cleaning out his large home in another town and his weekend home in the mountains. For the past two weeks I have cried every day and finally realized I am just beginning to mourn the loss of my husband. I have a friend who lost her husband 11 years ago and still sometimes has to pull her car to the side of the road and cry when something triggers her grief.
So we must give ourselves grace to cry when we need to. And grace not to do things sometimes because we just feel we can’t manage that right now. And grace to do whatever would be self-care whenever we have the opportunity. And grace to realize that grief is a strange thing and can pop up unexpectedly at any time and for a long time to come. I wish you blessings as you navigate through your grief journey.
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Hi. What a blessing it is to me that you commented. Thank you with my entire heart. I’m sorry to hear about your husband and your dad. It does feel like grief gets postponed at times- like on days that are busy, grief can seem to step back a bit. My heart hurts for you that you cried every day for 2 weeks- but I totally get it. I did that at the start of this, for weekssssssss. I appreciate the part about your friend, too. The 11 years helps put grief in perspective.
I understand the idea of sharing photos only. I’ve actually thought of doing that recently. Photos instead of words feels like a good place to be, while sorting this out. Maybe as a self care gesture I’ll try that for a week or something, when words are hard to come by.
What you said about grace hits home. Sometimes I feel I’m doing so great through this, until I’m not.
I just want to say how incredibly brave and amazing I think it is that you were able to sort through 2 homes after losing your dad. Immediately, dang, that’s so fast. My momma’s stuff is still where she left it. There’s some comfort in that.
Sending lots of love while you navigate your husband’s loss. I don’t know that loss, but my heart goes out to you.
Thank you for the blessings you sent. Means a lot to me. Truly.
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Thank you for your response. I’m glad that my words had meaning for you. I must say, though, that sorting through my dad’s two homes isn’t complete yet, and it has been a financial necessity to get that done and get those homes on the market for sale. My husband’s stuff is still here, and the process of going through that is just beginning.
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Oh I’m sorry. I misunderstood. I didn’t realize you were still doing your dad’s homes. Doing it for financial reasons and selling houses can be tough and hard on the emotions. Hugs about your husband’s stuff.
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