I think grief and recovering from a fire are very similar. A human being isn’t the same after experiencing a loss. I think you rebuild from a cellular level and it can take a very long time, if ever completely finished.
Our Hillside on November 14, 2008:
If you could have seen inside me June 28, 2002, I think I would have looked a little like the photo above. I know I felt numb, angry, lost and void of something essential to my life–my mother. I’d like to say that just a few months later; I was recovered as much as our hillside is below.
Our Hillside now:
The animals are gone and so are the wildflowers. From a distance, only the center, trees and bushes, show the fire damage. Up close, you can see damage everywhere. With time and the right ingredients the hill will almost completely repair itself. However, it will never look or be exactly the same.
I wasn’t so rapid in my repair. It took me a year before I couldn’t understand what I was reading, to do simple math calculations and a little longer before I was a safe driver. I didn’t care that I couldn’t read or do math—there was always television. But I hated giving up driving. I spent almost every day, all day long, with my husband–exercising or just being together. Also, I spent every Tuesday evening at a Hospice of San Luis Obispo–a support group.
After another year, my body began to repair itself like the roots of the grass now taking hold on the hillside. I started writing and I joined a writer’s critique group. I was still spending most of my time with my husband and was still attending the support group meetings.
In the third year, I started taking horse back riding lessons and ending up buying a horse. I was writing quite a bit and I was published, too. My hospice friends and I started our own support group.
In the remaining years, I have added friends and hobbies to my life. I’ve been published a few more times. I’m the leader of a writer’s critique group and co-founder of a blog and website. My life is full now and I try not to dwell on the loss of my mother; I try to remember the good things she gave me. She taught me to garden, bake and gave me a love of animals, especial cats.
No matter how long I live, I believe I will always grief for my mother. However, I love my life now, too.
Tags: Grief by debradavishinkle
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