I have chosen to share this prose to demonstrate how writing allows me to process my grief. I am currently revisiting that time and writing my personal account of healing through loss, in the hopes that by doing so, it may show others how writing can be a doorway to get to the other side of healing a pain that one thinks will never heal.
As I stare at my reflection,
I see a stranger
Sorrow has eaten me away,
revealing a wraith-like shadow me,
with coal-stained eyes deprived of sleep,
a distressed washed-out,
tear- stained complexion,
a withered sickly grossness that has
wrenched me through the looking glass of raw pain,
where I have vanished inside my own grief.
Feeling alone and fighting to stay present against the
bottomless black pit of despair,
has used up all of my resolve
My strength of will has no reserves
I am a mere imitation of my former self,
an impostor,
almost certainly
unrecognizable by my friends and family
Will this torment ever end?
Postscript
I have emptied my soul and allowed myself to
return to the dark pit of grief , temporarily...
I want you to know I am fine,
now that the tears have stopped.
The words just poured out....
explaining the raw numbing pain of loss....
This is how I felt in the first several
months after my daughters funeral...
perhaps years after.
Please know that I do continue to feel deep loss, yet the love that I have for Lacy (Chantelle) remains. However, the emotional pain is filtered and softened the more that I write and share my story.
Helena
Lacy, I will forever feel your Love
~ No one sees the private tears ~
