It’s been an interesting week.
I’m sure all of you have shared your condolences to Jeffery Hargett, who recently lost his wife. His words “It took just over 48 hours for me to go from concerned husband to grieving widower” haven’t been able to leave my mind. I can’t sum up how beautiful his post is, but if you haven’t read it, click here.
My grandfather passed away this week. And though it’s not near the amount of pain as losing a spouse, it’s been pretty devastating. And even though I’ve had trauma in my past that I thought would prepare me for this, it hasn’t. We’ve had a bit of death in our family as of late, and quite a few close calls, but for some reason my grandfather passing has affected me in a way I couldn’t predict.
Maybe it’s because I feel like my grandpa really cared. He always asked me about my writing when no one else did. He always encouraged my dancing and was always in the background watching and silently supporting. He was a fascinating man with amazing war stories. He was brilliant in his field and I always loved to hear him talk about his adventures and the way life used to be.
Thinking about how the Navy folded the flag and gave it to my grandmother while a bugler played “Taps” quietly at the cemetery is a moment that won’t ever leave my memory. It has me crying now thinking about it.
I think it’s good for us to get a dose of reality every once in a while. I think as writers (and I may be only speaking for myself) we tend to forget what’s really important sometimes. We get SO caught up in querying or being on submission or writing the next best seller or worrying about our next review that we may push aside moments that we can never get back. Our happiness level tends to revolve around what is (or isn’t) happening in our writing lives. And that's too bad.
I’d do anything to speak with my grandfather again. His death was so unexpected. And the evil selfish part of me is sad that I wasn’t published before he died. To be honest, there’s a part of me that writes because I wanted to make him proud. There are other areas in my life I didn’t succeed with, but I felt that by succeeding in writing that I would make him proud. So that hurts.
But I know what’s most important. I do. And I’ll keep pressing forward, with writing and with life, doing the best I can.
Red. Head. Out. :D