I just wrote a part in my book about something that is close to my heart. When I wrote that a character lost their grandmother I didn't connect it to my life but when I wrote her remembering her grandmother and realizing all the things that would be different with her gone it really struck home.
When you lose someone close that you spent time with and was important to you at first you might not realize what you've lost until much time has gone by.
When my grandmother died of cancer it hurt but I accepted it. She had been sick and she withered so I was glad she was released from the pain that life afforded her at the end. Only after many months and thinking on the past did I truly feel sadness and weep. I realized in her absence I would never have a Thanksgiving that was as welcoming or warm as they were in her house, I'd never have a Christmas helping her back cookies and opening presents in her living room, I'd never be able to watch Jeopardy or Abbot and Costello and feel the same connection with a different generation, I'd never be able to hug her and tell her I love her, again. I'd never be able to do those things ever again.
A character in my book just realized that same pain. For a writer pulling from experience makes your work all that more connecting for the reader, it makes it richer and gives it life. As a writer who does such as this I'm glad I can pull such warm memories but I'm also glad I can pull such sadness. It makes me feel more human and grounded. It makes me feel more alive when I know that I've lived a life and am living a life full of feeling. Full of meaning.
My grandmother helped me in many ways. She taught me respect. She made me laugh. She was an arm to lean on and a friend. She was greater than anyone in my life because she chose to be that for me. I love my grandmother despite our lack of blood connection. I am grateful for the time she spent in my life because she enriched it and made me a better person. With her life and her death, I am a better person.
I love you grandma. I'll always keep a place at the table for you in my heart. I love you and I miss you.
Tuesday, November 17, 2015
Friday, November 13, 2015
Humanity - The Lost Cause
Tonight, Nov. 13th 2015, over 150 people died in the city of Paris, France. As of this hour, 11pm EST, there is no conclusive evidence on who perpetrated these acts of terror on six locations in the city of Paris.
I have not felt this level of uncertainty in my life. When 9/11 happened I was 11 years old. Back then I was in shock but I don’t remember feeling this way. When the college shootings happened, namely Virginia Tech, I was in high school. I was in shock but I don’t remember feeling this way. When the Boston Bombing happened I was only a few years younger than I am right now. I was in shock but I don’t remember feeling this way.
I feel like there is no end to this. There is no way to fix the problem. There is no way to combat this level of violence. Fighting with kindness does not work, it just lets the knife rest on our throats. Fighting with fire does not work, it just forges the knife in a hotter fire. Not fighting does not work, it lets the knife edge ever closer to our hearts.
This knife isn’t just radical Islam. This knife isn’t just class war. This knife isn’t just a loss of control. This knife is human nature. We stand with this knife scrapping across our necks but don’t realize that we hold the blade in our hands.
We are blind. We are afraid.
I am blind. I am afraid.
Not afraid of death as I think on it nightly. I am afraid of the hopelessness I feel. I feel hopeless sitting here in this chair before this bright screen typing these little black words. I feel utterly hopeless.
Hopeless that the destruction will end. Hopeless that peace will endure. Hopeless that we will once and for all retract the knife and instead of just sheathing it for a rainy day, we destroy it outright and erase our memories of its previous existence.
We are of the same blood. We are of the same Earth. We are of the same sky.
It is our fear that divides us. Our fears that destroy us.
I am afraid.
I am also deeply sad.
What can be done?
Nothing it seems. Nothing but let the knife finish its job.
I have not felt this level of uncertainty in my life. When 9/11 happened I was 11 years old. Back then I was in shock but I don’t remember feeling this way. When the college shootings happened, namely Virginia Tech, I was in high school. I was in shock but I don’t remember feeling this way. When the Boston Bombing happened I was only a few years younger than I am right now. I was in shock but I don’t remember feeling this way.
I feel like there is no end to this. There is no way to fix the problem. There is no way to combat this level of violence. Fighting with kindness does not work, it just lets the knife rest on our throats. Fighting with fire does not work, it just forges the knife in a hotter fire. Not fighting does not work, it lets the knife edge ever closer to our hearts.
This knife isn’t just radical Islam. This knife isn’t just class war. This knife isn’t just a loss of control. This knife is human nature. We stand with this knife scrapping across our necks but don’t realize that we hold the blade in our hands.
We are blind. We are afraid.
I am blind. I am afraid.
Not afraid of death as I think on it nightly. I am afraid of the hopelessness I feel. I feel hopeless sitting here in this chair before this bright screen typing these little black words. I feel utterly hopeless.
Hopeless that the destruction will end. Hopeless that peace will endure. Hopeless that we will once and for all retract the knife and instead of just sheathing it for a rainy day, we destroy it outright and erase our memories of its previous existence.
We are of the same blood. We are of the same Earth. We are of the same sky.
It is our fear that divides us. Our fears that destroy us.
I am afraid.
I am also deeply sad.
What can be done?
Nothing it seems. Nothing but let the knife finish its job.
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