Hey everyone -
It's been a long couple of weeks with lots of stress, allergies, and very little sleep. I appreciate all your concern, feedback, and comments, because really, you're the ones who have been along for this 2+ year ride with me on this blog. You've seen me at my best and at my worst, but you've kept reading. I appreciate that.
The last couple of nights I've been mulling over whether or not I even want to continue blogging because of the time commitment. After all, I'm going to be starting back into my grad program at Hood College as soon as possible, and I'm working full-time already. I managed all that before, but I feel a little more fragile now.
It isn't that I don't like writing here. I love it! But I have little time to visit and comment on your blogs these days - certainly since last April when Stephanie died. Between my work life and my personal life, I've had little time to blog. Many of my readers have drifted away or stopped commenting because I'm not reciprocating.
One thing I have found, though, is that I have quite a lot of writing accumulated over the last two years in my various blogs. That content gives me the full context for the death of my daughter, which gives me enough to go on with a book. To date, my writing has included engineering books, software manuals, historical fiction, book reviews, and yes, poetry. This would be a different kind of book - a book about grieving the loss of an adult child.
You see, so many well-meaning people think that if you saw your child through adulthood, it shouldn't be as hard to lose him or her. After all, they weren't taken out of here with childhood cancer or something so tragic. Nothing feels more tragic to me than the loss of my daughter, though she was 25. We, her family, were there for her through good times (a beautiful childhood, band concerts, her fascination with all things dinosaur, and her love of all things creative) and bad (mental illness, self-mutilation, rebellion, and substance abuse). We saw her get better, get worse, then get better again. We saw her turning a corner, and then she was gone.
My friend and her family have a similar story. These kids get lost in the shuffle. If you read Beautiful Boy by David Sheff (or Tweak by his son Nic), you will know that the stories are many and that my friend and I are lucky that our children didn't end up John and Jane Doe. My heart is bursting to put Stephanie's story out there, and I think that would be a valuable use of my time right now. What better way to cope with pain than to give it a creative outlet?
I'm still undecided on the blogging thing. I suppose I could just keep putting it out here and see what happens. Spend a little time updating you on my progress through the project and see if you still come around. It isn't that I won't be dropping in on you, but I don't have the energy right now to do a lot of blog browsing. I will when I can, though.
Love and peace - D