Single mom shares her thoughts about life, love and loss. It's an emotional journey, but it's healing.
Lookout Studio, Grand Canyon (via aneclecticmind.com)
Where are you friend
why aren’t you here
and exactly when did life get so bad
you were my shining light
you showed me God is hope
and gave support when i was sad
but now that i need you near
i’m left to miss you so
’cause you’re nowhere to be found
the pain you must have felt
the days you must have planned
before you lept off solid ground
i wish you could have known
i wish you would have felt
that you weren’t alone that day
i want to hold your hand
and give you one last hug
but heaven is just too far away
do you hear me cry
or see my silent tears
can you feel the pain within me
it’s so hard to let go
i really miss you friend
but i know now, you’re truly set free.
I’ve lost the desire to write.
Creatively, mind you. Give me a 550-word assignment on “basement refinishing” optimized with a keyword density of 1.5% and I’ll have it for you in 20 minutes. Ask me to write a moving blog post about the holiday season however, and you’ll be waiting a while. This has nothing to do with whether I had a fulfilling Christmas or not — it was a nice albeit quiet one — but it’s a matter of heart.
I have to admit I’ve been in a funk lately, but that has never had a bearing on my writing before. In fact, I write best when emotionally charged, no matter which direction. Depression? A writer’s best friend.
No, this is something different. It’s an indifference almost. I imagine it’s something like what people feel when in shock. Or grief. Going through the motions of life, taking some time to feel emotions here and there, but mostly shutting out all around you in hopes that the triggers that bring on the avalanche of feelings remain hidden.
Right here, right now — I want to write, but the words won’t come…
