Navigating grief during the holidays.
I wrote a post about healing on my Instagram. It was in some way a small summary about healing an inner child and a small fraction of my character development that some may find relatable. It was too short to give the depth of detail required to tell a life’s story, but long enough to hit the points that a majority of us have navigated through.
I read a poem not too long ago about grief and how grief can feel like swallowing a neutron star. How much more careful would we be with the hearts that come in and out of our lives when we handle them like glass. Understanding that each one has processed their own consumption of neutron stars in different ways.
I have found grief at my doorstep often this season. Allowing myself to cry as I wrapped Christmas gifts because something about this holiday saddens me. The magic I strive to bring to my kids heals that part of my inner child and in turn brings them a joy that I only found later in life, mourning my youth alongside these moments. I have found giving myself the opportunity to feel these emotions as they come… and finding restoration in the simplest of moments, healing.
Today I made coffee and a warm croissant. I have this guilty pleasure of dunking warm bread into delicious caffeine. My grandmother raised me for sometime and I remember her gentle and aged hands taking great care into the preparation of my meals. She’d warm some milk and add a splash of coffee into my mug because I’d insist on wanting coffee just like her. Even when she had little and carried her own heavy dose of life’s grief… she always made sure I was never without. Those years with her before my father picked me up, after being deployed, I see now how they impacted me. My desire to be present and intentional against all the weight I’ve carried stemmed from those gentle hands.
I’ve found I enjoy romanticizing as many moments in my life FOR my family. The coffee is brewed over a glass strainer suspended over a wood round by a copper stem. The brewing is slow but I find healing over watching the steam as it gently lifts and swirls in the air against the backdrop of natural morning light. These slow mornings and tiny moments propel me into a state of creativity. Which in turn fuels this digital anthology I share with you.
I like the idea of writing these as one would a love letter; thoughtfully and beautifully written. Something you could read in a cozy nook in your home, on a rainy morning bus ride, or in the evening under layered blankets before you fall asleep. Little letters some may find comfort in, to know they are not alone. To know that sometimes vulnerability is not so bad, especially if it can help others heal. It’s good to be back on the blog, thank you for being here today, I appreciate you.