I have read other grief blogs from mothers who have lost their children and from spouses who have lost their husbands or wives and naturally I sympathize. I ache for them as I read their words written so eloquently and poetically. They are written with purpose and emotion. They write with fluidity, their words beautiful, cultured, and sophisticated. They speak for the loved ones they lost and they do it with poise, grace, and class.
Sometimes when I read other blogs I ask myself if I should continue my writing. I ask myself this because at times I feel I am not up to the standard I should be for blogging. I am not like them. Although, I long to be.
I did not start out to be in competition with anyone when I started Konnor’s Lullaby. It was a cathartic place for my emotional ranting. A release. To get things out of my head that had begun to make me sick in my stomach. However, I am finding that at times I feel inferior to those other bloggers that I read. I feel my writing is almost juvenile in comparison.
Yet, I need to remind myself I am not here to win a writer’s award. I am not out to gain recognition for blogger of the year. This is not a competition. Each of us are here with a sad story to tell, lines written on a page describing broken hearts. Each blogger’s story different yet similar in despair and grief.
I began my writing as a quest to keep Konnor’s name alive and to honor him, that is what my intention is and what it continues to be. I cannot lose sight of the reasons for this blog that bears his name. When doubt clouds my mind and weakens my hand I know I cannot stop. I cannot allow my self-doubt and uncertainty to rule me.
Writing about something so personal is a difficult process. How many words can you use to describe pain? Grief? Or suffering? As much as my writing is about grief and love and loss I try to avoid repetition. Although all these emotions play out the same, grief is lonely. Grief is painful. Moving forward after loss is a slow and strenuous journey. I want the reader to feel what I feel. If my words cannot relay that emotion then I have failed as a writer. At least an amateur one.
How do I write about the tragedy of the loss of a young boy using a vocabulary so descriptive the reader will feel as though they went through the experience with me? How can my rhetoric bring the reader to smile as they read about Konnor’s constant silliness and the battles to get a decent picture because this child could never smile normally. How many times would I look at his pictures and just sigh heavily because his smile was that of the joker. This was Konnor. How do I capture the essence of his beauty? How do I write about him?
I cannot be certain but I have not come across very many blogs that speak of the loss of a grandchild. We hurt too, for our own child who lost their child and for the loss of our beloved grandchild. I know it is the hardest thing in the world to move forward in this life after losing a child. I see this in my daughter after she has lost her son. The grief a mother and a father suffer after losing a child is nearly unbearable. These are the blogs that make me weep.
To lose a spouse is life changing as well. I have not had this experience personally but I can only say that losing a loved one is devastating at any stage in a marriage. Those that have spent many years together this must be equivalent to losing a part of yourself. I get it, I understand. Widows and widowers write of their grief with the deep love and dedication brought about by years together. These blogs hold sorrow that is delicate and undeniable.
My perspective is personal as well. It is a grandmother’s, it is a mother’s, it is my own. I may struggle to put into words the emotional turmoil I feel. I may lack the vocabulary needed to do justice for my Konnor in describing his beauty and his meaning in my life. Still, I will continue to try. It is my purpose, it is my journey. I do this to the best of my ability and with all the emotion that is within me. My love for this child in the eight years I had him in my life was rich, joyful and blessed. Let this love guide me when I stare blankly at my computer praying to get this right.
Perhaps it is the overwhelming emotion that leaves me struggling for words when attempting to characterize him or my state of mind when I am at my worst. There are days that I simply cannot put hand to keyboard as my thoughts are a tangled mess that even I cannot comprehend. I have many times written a blog through teary eyes yet knowing the story I was typing had to be told. My story, our story. How many grief bloggers have wept over their keyboards? How many readers have joined us?
I am a griever. I am the mother of a parent who lost a child. I watch my child grieve, my family grieve. As much as I long to be poetic and eloquent, I accept I may not be. I write that of which holds true within me, what I am experiencing since that dreadful day on November 22, 2015.
Nonetheless, I hope to express what lies deep within me in ways others can understand maybe even sympathize, even when words fail me.