As I work on my full length memoir I have read several books, both how-to and memoir’s as research. In the book “Braving the Fire” by Jessica Handler, she mentions the shortest story of grief attributed to Ernest Hemingway, who is said to have written the following six word memoir
“For Sale. Baby Shoes. Never Worn.”
Six words, that’s t leaves the reader wondering with unanswered questions. I haven’t gotten mine down to six words yet, but I will keep working on it.
In the meantime I continue working on the ‘shitty‘ first draft of my full-length memoir. I will be posting excerpts here on the blog soon, watch for more information to come and be sure to subscribe via your email to make sure you don’t miss any updates.
And remember grief is a shared human experience that we all must face. Grief is a natural extension of love and the lie is that we are either destined to live in utter despair forever or we somehow are completely healed. This is nonsense for grief irrevocably changes you, how could it not? You carry the experience with you for the rest of our life.
Draft fiction (first 2 novels in a trilogy) and non-fiction (hope and grief from a guys perspective), keeping busy #writing#amwriting also planning a book of poetry! 📖 Some of the hardest writing I have ever done as it is real and personal.
The quiet all around was loud inside my head. I felt a sense of expectancy in the air. The breeze off the lake contained a chill but was bearable after the heat of the day. The small waves pushed by the breeze lapped against the gravel-laden shoreline. The boardwalk was empty this early evening. The boards running vertically beneath our feet showed the signs of the many footsteps of those who had walked along this path and were well worn. The diffused evening light cast an ethereal glow settled over the landscape as the sun touched the horizon. The ground to both sides of the wooden boardwalk was stark white bleached white from the powerful desert sun. The winds that blew over that had stripped the earth bare leaving it barren and void of life except for a few sparse trees that struggled for survival in the dry parched dirt. We walked silently, me with my hands pushed deep into my pockets and her pushing her bike forward hands firmly on the grips and face a mask devoid of emotion. The sleeves of my white shirt rolled up to my elbows and I could feel the flapping of the shirttails in the wind as we walked. Her white summer dress hung loosely on her young body a stark contrast to her brown olive skin. The lack of color in our clothes matched the landscape as if we were a part of it. Looking inland away from the lake, I could see the far distance parking lot where the last stragglers of the day were returning to their vehicles. Headed where I had no idea, I only knew that they had somewhere to go. The loneliness settled over me like a shroud as my steps faltered and the sun sank its lower half now hidden below the horizon. Catching my stumble out of the corner of her eye, she knew better than to ask how I was. Instead, she simply stated, “I am tired.” “I know sweetie.” I replied as I quickly regained my balance and told myself she had not seen my misstep, nor knew the reason why. However, deep down I knew that she knew. She always seemed to know. Her understanding empathy, the ability that came so naturally to her and guided her actions was far beyond her young years. As we continued to walk, she said. “I just want to sleep, all the time.” “It’s okay. I get it. If that’s what you need then that’s okay.” The silence then settled around us again as we moved forward. We strode onward as if drawn by some invisible force that neither of us could deny. I knew she was tired and worn out, even without her earlier comment still echoing in my head. My heart ached knowing I was powerless to stop the pain. I still found it hard to admit, even to myself, the conclusion I knew was inevitable and unavoidable. Life is hard and for her to learn this at such a young age seemed so unfair. My anger over the injustice I perceived burned however; the sadness and longing overshadowed it like the darkness. I looked across the lake at the exact moment the last of the huge golden orb of the sun sank beyond the horizon into the undiscovered. Melodies of grace erupted in my head in songs of redemption and a belief in a light that will one day overcome the darkness. As quickly as the feelings rose, they disappeared as the despair again wrapped its arms around me choking off my breath. I felt so helpless and alone. My life slipping from my grasp and everything I held dear. We continued to walk in silence, comfortable together in our solitude. Over the past few days, I had watched, as she grew weaker and I hated the fact that my little girl’s strength was quickly fading and I knew the end was near. The words came from where I do not know and spilled out of my mouth in a cry of anguish. “I miss her.” “I do too daddy.” “God, I miss your momma.” We stopped walking and the bike lay on its side where she had let if fall. Picking her up I held her close feeling her wet check against mine our tears mingled together as they ran down our faces. Her arms tightly squeezed my neck in defiance of tomorrow and yesterday, for this moment was all we had.
This piece of flash fiction, if you will, came to me in a vision as I spent some quite time with God and this is what I saw in my mind as it was revealed to me. I believe in healing and that God can, and does, renew our hearts rescuing us from the darkness.
I captured my memories of you, and placed them inside a glass jar. Holding it close and so none could dare escape, I screwed on the lid twisting it as tightly as I could. Like the fireflies we had captured when we were young, each memory flew innocently around inside the jar.
Upon rising the next morn I came to find, each memory was dead from lack of air. Nothing was left and utter despair filled my heart. I resolved that I could and would do better, so eagerly I set about capturing more. Into the glass jar I placed each one and again screwed down the lid, this time tighter than before.
Believing I had learned a hard lesson in life, I punched holes in the top so air would enter in, believing the memories would now never die. I watched them flutter so happily about, which brought an ever present smile to my face. Until, eventually I dozed in this contented place.
Waking many hours later in the early evening. I looked for the memories to remind me of you but the jar I held was now empty and cold. Unscrewing the lid I could find nothing there. I sighed deeply, realizing that the holes must have been too big, allowing each memory to escape. I could not ever hold them I thought, as I sat clasping the jar with clenched fists.
The evening began to fade as the dark curtain of night began to fall covering the land. My hands still gripped tightly to the empty jar, my heart void of anything, feeling nothing. The darkness smothered the forgotten light of day. Finally, I dared to move and looking up over my head, I was astounded by the sight before me.
A million twinkling lights, each a memory of you shone white hot against the dark canvas of night. As the memories flooded back in wave after wave, I distinctly and clearly remembered this one. How we ran and laughed capturing fireflies, without a care in the world; when we were young.
Poetry, music, creative writing and a desire to inspire.....Isaiah 41:10: So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.