Monday, April 5, 2010

The Heart Does Break

Hello... faithful readers & occasional visitors.

I'm so sorry to have disappeared quite suddenly a few weeks back (I must thank Blogger's automatic posting feature for making it appear somewhat that I was *here*). It's not in my nature to just *vanish* -- since I typically hang out here each & every day for a spell, and I feel my absence should be addressed ever so briefly.

I tend to keep my most personal moments private & refrain from writing about them on my site but life as I have known it -- forever -- has changed drastically for me. My beloved Mum died almost three weeks ago after a year long battle with lung cancer. My family & I are devastated and the painful process of resurfacing to our "normal" lives is proving difficult. "Normal" will now be forever changed and I think it might take awhile for us to all find our way. I haven't had the heart to write since, but I'm hoping that this first post back on the other side of normal might help me find the path that I had started...

The most routine tasks are tough right now, and I'm not shy in saying that I'm looking for solace...somewhere, anywhere. I have been trying to read a new book called 'The Heart Does Break: Canadian Writers on Grief and Mourning' compiled by Jean Baird and George Bowering (published by Random House). It's a collection of personal recollections of renowned authors on the loss of a loved one. It's painful to read and I can see my own situation mirrored in the prose, especially within the moving "Her Great Art" by Jill Frayne about her wonderful mother, June Callwood. Frayne writes, "we're different without her...June was the centre and every distance out from her has shifted, every axis on a new tilt...I'm a different woman with my mother gone. Less brave, more ordinary. If this is grief, it feels like vertigo, a kind of motion sickness. I'm making myself over, without my mother. Now that she doesn't call me, or put flowers in my room, or settle an appraising eye on me, I'm not who I was...".

It's too early to say whether this book will help me deal, but at least it makes me feel like I'm not alone in feeling so lost right now.

I'm hoping to find it in me to post more regularly soon - at least Blogger's automatic posting function will make it seem so. :)


Darren said...

That's just the sort of writing that your mum admired you for my love. One day at a time.

Bev said...

I am so sorry for your loss. I know exactly how you feel; I lost my father to lung cancer and heart disease a year ago. Last year we celebrated Easter with him and he got diagnosed a few weeks later. He was gone by the end of May.

I was (and am) devastated by the loss of my favorite person, but I want you to know that coping does get easier with time. It has taken me almost a full year to get back to feeling like myself again.

Sending warm hugs and good thoughts your way.


Anonymous said...

I wish I could offer words of comfort to you, but I'm still in the same position of trying to feel 'normal'. I hope the pain does get easier, but don't rush things. Take as long as you need to heal your heart and soul. Your Mum will always be with you and you just have to cherish every memory you have of her. Sending all my love and support to you. Maxine xx

Karen said...

Our thoughts and prayers are with you and Heather at this time. Hang in there Love Karen&Neil

Sarah said...

I wondered where you had gone as I had missed reading your blog and seeing you about on twitter.

Take one day at a time and do what you feel is best.

Love and hugs x x x

Myrna Hynes said...

So sorry for your loss. Take your time (one moment at a time) and grieve as you will. Thinking of you and your family.

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