I love to write posts that I would love to sit at a screen and read chuckling away to myself; my posts about crazy toddlers, why people shouldn’t just drop by and how to blag your kid a star role.
But then there’s posts like this – which no one really likes. It’s ok honestly I’m not offended! It’s just… No one wants to read about grief and even worse – death.
It’s not a topic that most feel comfortable with. I can blog about it but that doesn’t mean I’m ok with it. Far from it. Death scares me. Not the actual act – the lead up if you get one and then the long agonising bleak aftermath of it all. How the scary D word rules your day to day life. How it fills you with rage at the most pettiest of things. How it can rip a family into tatters. How it robs a complete picture of every future memory. How the tiniest thing can set off a tsunami of tears that feel they will never stop falling.
My blog has in a bizarre way become like an outlet for grieving, cliché as that sounds. I don’t want to go and see a bereavement councillor because I would not be able to speak the words through the thick stream of water that pours out of my eyes every time I attempt to make sense of the last 18 months. There would be no point.
But my blog – listens.
If no one reads my post – I genuinely don’t mind because at that point in time I wrote down exactly how I felt and exactly what I wanted and needed to say. I used my crutch to prop me back up and realise I can’t crumple and fall. I have to carry on; albeit some days this carrying on malarkey appears to be a mountainous task.
You reader, may quickly skip these posts even delete me from your twitter feed and hey, that’s fine, I totally get it. But I envy you. I envy the old me who probably would have done exactly the same and skipped on, as my life was so simple and loss and grief never even registered in my life.
But now – I feel compelled to read everyone’s story.
The pain they share that I can empathise with. I furiously read paragraph after paragraph in the desperate hope that it may offer some solace and even answers. With every person who has that pang of extreme grief in their chest – there’s a story behind why they feel so weighed down Before I never would have taken the time to really absorb the enormity of it all. Yes I’d think it was sad, perhaps shed a tear or two but that would be it. Now I feel in a bizarre way connected to others. They can offer me pearls of their wisdom and try to reassure me that I am normal. And that I’m not alone.
My dearest blog you have allowed me to read others stories. To have people come to you and offer me comfort at a time when I really really need it. To most blogging is just that but my little Twinderelmo blog you’re so much more to me.