Cecily

I need a place to document all of the craziness that going through grief is. I have been posting it on facebook, but it feels too public. I am afraid of making people uncomfortable. It's stupid that I worry about these things. It's probably because I have been judgmental of people in the past. I hate that past Mary for being so naive. You are welcome to read it. You are welcome to share it. You are welcome to comment, but you are under no obligation. I am going to keep writing, even if nobody ever reads it. I can't stop writing. Maybe this is why God gave me a chance to go back to school. I've learned how to write what I need to. I've also learned that writing is what saves me. Words save me.

I have written the entire story in Cecily's journal. It took me over a week and cost me thousands of tears. I am rewriting it on a google doc, now that the shock of it has worn off. I feel a need to share it, and I will, gradually. As I feel ready. 

I've started writing poetry. It's free verse. It doesn't rhyme. A lot of it is CRAPPY. I haven't learned how to write poetry. But these words, as crappy as they are, have given me an outlet. They seem to be able to soak up part of what I am feeling, and that keeps me going.

So here is today's "poem." 

I guess I should first say that the title of my collection of poems is "The Seventy-One Stages of Grief"

It started as The Five Stages of Grief, but so many of the things I have been feeling don't seem to fit into on the "official" five stages of grief. I'm learning that grief is far more complicated than I ever thought it was, so I'm giving myself plenty of wiggle room. I'm sure I'll be able to identify a whole bunch of complicated emotions over the course of . . . well, the rest of my life. 

Nostalgically Despondent

Nov 26 2021

21 days 

It might seem like our lives have gone back

to the way it was before.

But we are forever altered. 

Scarred. Enlightened. Stretched.

There is no going back.

To My Little Bird

To My Little Bird

Thank you for

making it 

easier

to shed the burden of

wild fruit.