“The level of devastation and confusion after a loss like this is completely beyond description. There are no adequate words to describe the deep ocean of ache that washes over you as relentlessly as waves are washed over the shore. Looking back, I only remember a series of blackened days. Moving through each day felt like moving through concrete. I couldn’t understand why everyone’s world was still turning while mine had come to a shuddering halt. I wasn’t there; I was suspended in a world that wasn’t reality, a world where Hannah was still alive. I couldn’t understand why everything was unfolding as if she had died.”
Feeling the purity of the emotions, the words stole my breath.
The entries to the Grief Diaries, a book series about loss, come in all day long. Yet every entry mesmerizes me by the candid rawness. The contributing authors, baring the good, the bad, and the ugly, leave nothing to the imagination.
Their individual stories unite into a sacred collection of recorded memories. Accordingly, I handle each entry with kid gloves, as if the very words themselves are fragile.
Their individual stories unite into a sacred collection of recorded memories. Accordingly, I handle each entry with kid gloves, as if the very words themselves are fragile.
Will other readers feel the same way I do? Will the deeply profound stories touch their hearts the same way they touch mine?
Some people might shudder at reading such stories. Some, seeing only sadness, will turn away from the raw beauty.
Yet I see a treasure chest yielding a legacy of comfort, healing and hope. The kind of legacy that can only be created by a rich collection of voices.
And every voice is valued.
The 70 authors collaborating on this series readily swap thoughts, support and cyber hugs. And I can’t help but admire our little group. A village of kindness, compassion, and support where cultural differences and societal imperfections have little bearing. Here in this village we all speak the same language of loss, and every journey is honored.
And I feel overwhelming gratitude at sharing their brokenness. And humanness. And love.
For grief is ultimately all about love.
And I am grateful.
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