Capture your Grief; Today/Rituals/Healing

Day 4 – Today

Today I hurt from yesterdays loss, the light fades but is never gone. My grief sits a top my shelf, a glow surrounding the memory of you. It stares down at me every day, wondering if I will pick it up to hold, or ignore and pretend it is not there. Today will I smile and laugh  or sit and cry. What will be the trigger today, an ambulance, a song, a news story. The many ways to be reminded of you are endless. A picture, a memory, a drifting thought. The painful, unstoppable passage of time has made today more bearable but not erased and never forgotten. Today may be easier than yesterday but everyday is a gentle reminder that you are not here.

 

Day 5 – Rituals

Light a candle

Say a prayer

Leave the hurt in a chair

Dry your eyes with her coat

The painful memories drift afloat

Through the house your presence haunts

Todays essence of yesterdays loss

The veil we wear like a sheaf

Never gone as some believe

These are the rituals

Of  child loss grief

 

 

Day 6 – Healing

Healing is an odd word, to be healed of mind is to let go, to be healed of body can mean death; no longer in pain or medical intervention that is a success; healing a wound, these two extreme opposites. Heal your heart, heal your soul, many ways we hope to find comfort in healing. Hoping to heal a friendship or a mistake, heal a hurt we may have made. Yes, healing is an odd enigma that we all search for at some point.

May you find what heals you. I have found writing has helped to heal me.

 

Thanks for reading,

Sheri

 

 

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The underside of my heart… or bunk bed.

bunk-bed

 

This is the underside of my kids bunk bed, this is what I have looked at, often fallen asleep staring at while holding my little babies as they too fell asleep. A memory that will forever be in my heart. Let me explain, all three of my kids have slept in this bottom bunk, the upside down Spider-Man on the right was placed there by my oldest when he was two and a half, he loved spider man. He went through three different Spider-Man costumes from the ages of two to five because he wore them as a daily uniform. The Scooby doo sticker placed there by my second born who to this day still loves Scooby, often wearing Scooby doo t-shirts and watching it on TV or reading Scooby books at night. The Barbie sticker placed by the recent occupant of the bottom bunk my fourth child, my princess, my hope. Who is the girlish of girls that loves all that is pink or sparkly. She loves it when I wear heels or jewellery, which is rare.

But why is the underside of this bunk the underside of my heart?

I have spent eight years laying here holding, comforting, reading to and staring at my beautiful children. I have spent nights beside them when they have been sick or scared from a bad dream. I have escaped to this bed after an argument with my spouse to hold their tiny bodies as a comfort myself. I have cried many times staring up at these stickers, wishing time would stop, wanting them not grow up anymore. But also it is my heart because I spent over a year holding my second born, while my oldest was on the top bunk reading aloud to them both, then singing aloud to them both all the while thru tears, pausing to breathe between the shaking of my breath, I was lucky I suppose they were too little to notice I was crying. Certain books got me, like Robert Munsch’s ‘Love You Forever’ or my kindergarteners favorite ‘The Kissing Hand’ which taught him to kiss my hand every time I left him at school and he needed one on his palm in return to hold until the end of the day or a certain lullaby, most have references to babies in them but mostly it was right after I lost my third child at two months old that I cried every night I put them to bed. I cried because I was wasn’t putting her to bed, I cried because I was terrified of losing them too. I cried because I always end my string of lullabies with a song that has her name in it. I was and am still comforted that I had those moments, as hard as they were, they consoled my grief, being able to be with them and not be alone with my thoughts. The physical pain in those early days was excruciating to bare, but I would go back to feel it in a heartbeat.

Thanks for reading

Namaste,

Sheri

 

 

Poetry Challenge- Dreams, A job, Childhood

Dreams

Walking on a rainbow; she smiles

Floating on a cloud; she laughs

Whistling of the wind; are you ok? She asks

When my nose is cold; I think of you

Her eyes as dark as the moon is bright

Look into my heart; soothing the chills

Her stare holds me in an embrace

My eyes puddle; at a chance to see her face

As the sun comes up

I reach out my hand

She is gone again

By Sheri Hall

Childhood

Some remember it fondly

Some wish to forget

Innocent adventures imagination brought

Hungry hours stretched into darkness only food as thoughts

Silly friends with arts and crafts teachers taught

Forced labor with a harsh hand hardened hearts wrought

Lucky few born in a better place or a different colored face

Others rose to simply survive

Childhood can be many things

But very different memories for us all to bring

By Sheri Hall

 

 

A job

The twinkle in the eye as you start your first day of your first job

What will you do, who will you meet, how you will learn?

The world becomes different, different rules outside of family or school

New skills get formed, new friendships made; authority becomes your boss

That summer you tried something different

Babysitting, carwashes, fruit picking so many fond memories the first one

A shame though that as we grow our job becomes less than

Less fulfilling than when it is only for fun or pocket money

But now for life for rent for food it

Becomes a must not a want

A job is many things

The water a waiter brings

The pool that gets cleaned everyday

The weeds that get pulled as the houses are painted

The food that is grown and delivered to the store by the drivers

The stock people that unload the food into the store or ring up the register

The person that cleans the messes

While the people upstairs fill out the invoices and paychecks

The mom that cooks, cleans, wipes dirty faces

So many jobs but the one we always remember

That first one with the happiness it brought

By Sheri Hall

 

 

 

 

Writing heals

Life

What is life?

Is it family; love

Is it happiness; success

Is it discovery; growth

To learn, to love, to succeed

All facets of life

But what of suffering

Pain; loss

Tragedy; disease

Poverty; injustices

As all things have two sides

So does life

By Sheri Hall

A Story

One we tell one we share one we write

How we fib how we plight how we fight

Some we must some we don’t some we still might

Take it hard take it seriously takes it light

It is all inside us to get it right

Your story her story his

Mine theirs ours

We all have a story to write

 

By Sheri Hall

 

Summer

As the barbeque lights, scents fill the air

The crunch of kernels smothered in butter

The sweet taste of summers’ grain on a cob remains a constant fling

The smell of skin that’s been warmed by the sun the warm touch reminds us of

Young summer nights

Spent under the moon frolicking in the warm winds that drift off the oceans breeze

A salty kiss, a burnt touch, a bite of corn

Summers a dream that fulfills the core

Our senses being teased of memories as smells drift our path

A constant reminder of summers past

How we long for summer to last

By Sheri Hall

 

 

 

poem-challengeComing next # 11, 12 & 13

Thanks for reading,

Namaste,

Sheri

Just Write

After reading Elizabeth Gilberts Big Magic I felt/feel so inspired, enlightened, encouraged! Not even realizing I needed the permission I was given when I read it.

She says simply -write for you. Write to be creative, create because it makes you feel good not because you expect a praise or a check or it to be your income. Just don’t stop creating, don’t stop writing, drawing, sculpting, whatever it is that fills your heart do it. Have an affair with your writing. Make time for it. Make it a priority.

She says, which I could not agree with more, writing is a release, after completing something you love you almost feel like you got away from yourself, you took a break from your self and your thoughts because when you are simply  writing, creating and letting it overcome you, you can escape. I feel that. Thank you Liz Gilbert.

That is the tip of the iceberg of revelations in this wonderful book encourage us to do what we love with no need for approval or appraisal or monetary gain. You need to read it for yourself to truly encapsulate yourself in its knowledge.

So with that. I start a new challenge to myself. Lately I have been enjoying writing poems.  I saw this daily poem challenge on a fellow writer/bloggers page, Thanks Ameena.K

https://randomsbyarandom.wordpress.com

and thought -Yes! that’s what I want to do. So here it is- I am not focusing on the dates but simply completing each topic one by one on a daily basis.

poem-challenge

First

We long, we love, we grow
As we discover; we yearn to know
The
First smile, first touch
First kiss, first lust
First hope, first dream
First lessons learned in between
First hurt, first loss
First pain,
All at once life’s changed
Becoming
First growth
We slowly see the reason of being

 

 

By Sheri Hall

Thanks for reading,

Namaste.