A Word on Wednesday: Grief

Grief

Grief, a noun

An unfortunate outcome,

A disaster.

Grief, a noun

Deep distress,

Caused by bereavement

Grief, a noun

Do I sit in its sadness?

Envelope thy self in sorrow?

Grief, a noun

Do I screech at the injustice?

Curse the taker of life?

Grief, a noun

Do I deny this final reality?

Seek an explanation?

Grief, a noun

Do I ignore its burden?

Turn away from acceptance?

Grief, a noun

Do I beg for reprieve?

Request peace in exchange?

Grief, a noun

A process,

omnipresent.

A Word on Wednesday: Will

Today's post is about the word will when used as an auxiliary verb. An auxiliary verb is used in forming tenses, moods, and voices of other verbs. Will moves an action to the future.

After we collectively counted down the last minutes of 2016, we embarked on 2017 with its promise of 365 unwritten days.

With articulated resolutions told with varying conviction, we believed in the power of positive change. Resolutions are by definition set in the future: will lose weight, will quit smoking, will go back to school, will ask for a promotion, will pay down my debt, will attend more concerts, will make a new friend, will read twelve books, or will finish writing that novel.


A friend, who died last month at the age of 39, often repeated this common sentiment:
"There are only two days that nothing can be done. One is yesterday. The other is tomorrow."

I have come to loath the word will  in both my writing and my thoughts. No longer do I have the luxury of ignorance of immortality. There is no time to will. There is no value in saying "I will write tomorrow." or "I will hug my loved ones tomorrow."


The helping verb will is dependent on assumptions. The assumption of a future. The assumption of a second chance. The assumption of endless mortal days.

I challenge myself to learn from literature. I challenge myself to avoid wishful thinking. I challenge myself to avoid will my action verbs to an uncertain future.

I act today with purpose. I postpone only the least important items. Laundry may never be complete. My floors may never be those to eat upon.

Yet, I promise to eradicate the helping verb will from my vernacular. I promise to live today.

I also vow to avoid the helping verb will in my poetry and prose. Few novels are written in future tense. (If you can think of one, please let me know.)

*Note: I know not why this friend was called early and I was given more days on earth. I miss her. Her mantra was "Loving Living Life 2Day."

Live well my friends. Live well.

A word: Onward

You will not find "onward" on a compass rose. 

No one is sure where it goes.

Yet. I. Find. Tomorrow. Each. Time. I. Move. In. Its. Direction. 

Onward  

--is often, and always -- 

The Only Way To Go

Thank you for your letters and cards!

Getting an email from the Website or a Facebook message via my author page, and especially the hand-written cards found in the PO Box truly make my day. 

I'm so glad to hear readers are enjoying the book. Putting it out there has alreadyled to more than I could hope for. People are talking, to me anyway, about their
families' experiences with mental illness. They share they believe in wellness despite the diagnoses they or their family members have. 

I do hope these conversations spread. One reviewer on Amazon wrote, "... my view of mental illness has forever changed."  

I am fortunate to live in a time when people are becoming more comfortable with
discussing mental health. 

It is funny, however, because I am both proud of my accomplishment of having published a
well-written book; at the same time I am embarrassed. The embarrassment comes from the stigma, which is still attached to mental illness. Some days it feels as if I admitted some crime that I have committed rather than revealing a story of an illness I survived and am successfully managing.

Thank you again for your notes affirming the book is contributing to the national conversation on mental wellness. 

Live Well, 
Tara 

The Companions We Keep

Grandma Suzanne always said, “I take my happy with me wherever I go.”

I always thought happy was grandpa’s name.

When grandpa retired, I was just learning to read. The banner said Congratulations Mark! Best Wishes.

“Who is Mark?” I asked my mom.

“That’s Grandpa,” she said.

“I thought his name was Happy, because grandma always says she is taking her happy with her.”

My mom’s sister overheard this and she laughed as my mom did the best she could to keep her face straight.

“Oh, Elliot, honey. That’s just an old saying Grandma likes,” she said.

“That’s right,” know-it-all Aunt Bee said. “The entire saying is ‘happiness is not a destination. It is a companion we can choose to accompany us on our journey.’”

I exhaled through a clenched jaw. My welling, deep black eyes squinted to slits. I turned and stomped away. I heard oh my and snickers following me. I hid beneath a row of coats in the hallway leading to the restrooms. I situated myself in the corner, well concealed among the bunched coats.

That is what I took with me — memories of teasing, laughter, and gut-twisting embarrassment. I carried my thoughts of my own stupidity.

I watched ankles and legs. From my vantage point I could only make out cropped people as they walked in the hallway.  

 

Mom came out and called a hushed, “Elliot.” A half-heartedly attempt to reach me, I thought. Dad stepped behind her and convinced her that the concern she held was unfounded.

“He will be fine. He’s just a little embarrassed,” I overheard Dad say. “He’s just a boy who needs time alone to get himself together.”

I should muscle through and be a tough guy like my father, I thought. My dad never did anything embarrassing. He played hockey with the guys from the health network where he practiced orthopedic medicine.  

“Are you sure he’s okay?” mom asked.

“I’m sure,” Dad said.

“You are probably right,” she conceded.

I watched ankles, shins and shoes parade back and forth. I’m not sure how long I sat there. As time passed, voices got louder, steps got quicker. The party was building momentum. Laughter was populating. Inhibitions were vanishing. Happy was a promiscuous companion of all the party guests.

Well nearly all. I only had shame to carry with me. Grandma Suzanne came to me then. At an age when her peers walked with orthopedic shoes, she wore a beige, wedge sandal. Her slender legs hadn’t lost their tone, thanks to her regular practice of yoga and Zumba.

She often said, “inactivity was akin to playing dead, and she had far too much living yet to do.”

Grandma Suzanne described herself as young, which she justified because she could still sit on the floor.

“Children sit on the floor,” she always said.

It was unsaid that old people sit in Barcalounger or arm chairs with ottomans to put their heavy feet up. She gave her chair up at gatherings to people half her age.  

Grandma knew where to find me, and magically she knew just the right time to seek me out. She crawled right under those coats across from me. She didn’t say anything. She just sat there in her pantsuit and waited for me to acknowledge her. I couldn’t wait long. I looked up at Grandma and didn’t feel a need to explain what I was doing or why I was sitting there. She didn’t need me to express how angry I felt when Aunt Bee laughed or how lonely I felt after leaving the party.

I sensed her calm. I felt peace just being near here.

She stretched her arms and said, “Won’t you please join me? Happy is inside watching the band. She’s waiting for you.”

I returned her smile. I nodded. I placed my hands in hers with age spots that wouldn’t lie. I loved that woman.

We danced and laughed. I noticed Mom, well into her swaying stupor, color her face with relief when she saw me with Grandma.   

I was with Happy then. Grouchy was too heavy a companion, I decided.

 

The Catholic Girls Guide

I acquired a leather-bound, pocket-size book with golden page borders from my great-grandmother Helen. It is called “The Catholic Girls Guide” and was edited by Rev. Francis X. Lasance in 1906. This gem has ideas that seem outdated by today’s standards, but I did enjoy the following passage on friendship.

“If you have to stand alone in an evil world, in the midst of dangers, temptations and snare, a good and true friendship will be highly desirable … You will more easily escape the perils of the world, you will more readily save your soul, if you are united to others in the bonds of pious and holy friendship, that so you may mutually warn, encourage and sustain one another, and stimulate one another to practice good works. True friends seek to promote the good and happiness of each other.”

I love the part about promoting good and happiness of each other and the notion of forming a pact against the evils of the world. The chapter continues:

“Be not hasty in forming close friendships, ‘but when you have found a friend,’ says a certain writer, ‘let neither death, nor misunderstanding, nor distance, nor doubt, nor anything else interrupt this friendship and vex your peace.’ Let their joys be your joys and their sorrows your sorrows.”

“A friend is one of the sweetest things that life can bring. A true friend is not only our comfort in sorrow, our help in adversity; he also recalls us to a sense of duty when we have forgotten ourselves, he inspires and encourages us to aim at high ideals, he takes loving heed of our health, our work, our plans and all that concerns us; he wants to make us good and happy.”

The book has devotions, free from actual bible verse, on all areas of woman’s life. While some modern feminists may take offense to the passages on marriage and vocation, some of collection’s wisdom is timeless, such as this exert on friendship.

My life is full with people who are beyond companions and really champions who want me to live a full and healthy life. I hope I return this sincerity in the friendships I hold. I post this today to encourage you to take assessment of those people in your life and hold them against this standard — you deserve people of this mindset in your life.

The passage ends with a short poem:

“Sweeter than the breath of spring,
Is the joy a friend can bring,
Who rejoices in your gladness,
And give solace in our sadness.”