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The Art of Writing
Grief
Throughout the
history of art and music and literature, loss stands among love and religion as
one of the great movers of the hand. Great symphonies, paintings and
sculptures, poems and songs, great tombs that survive centuries have all been
born of sorrow and loss. I have recently
been reading ancient Greek literature and among the great poems and tragedies
and epics we find loss so real one can only intuit personal experience from the
insight.
This New Years Day,
I lost my father. Dan Unger was a hero to many, a fierce defender of justice in
the courts and among those he met. He was an enigma even to those of us who
knew him best. He never once said a negative thing about anyone, no matter the
dislike he harboured. But he was stubborn and bullheaded, impossible in an
argument. He loved, truly loved, few. And those he loved, he loved with a
loyalty that could never be touched. For seven days, my sister, my mother, and
I (my brother died when I was seventeen) sat by his side, held his hand, sang
him songs, recounted his triumphs… and watched him slip away. Helpless.
Unable to sleep for
days, I wrote. I wrote on pieces of paper and on the computer. I wrote and wrote (in the flurry of written pages, I managed to
finish the manuscript edits on the Young Inventors Guild, Book 2!) and found
that I was able to work through some of the impossible grief I felt. It is
times of loss that the mind overloads with cries of injustice, wails of sorrow,
gasps of disbelief, all rising within until the heavy weight they bring becomes
too much to see anything else. We can sometimes let those guardians of grief
become the driving force behind the pen or brush and give us room to breathe.
In truth, it doesn’t really matter what is on the page or canvas as much as
what it does for us to put our sorrows there.
I’ve taught my
children to use this source of liberation. If they are angry or sad, let the
words out. Put them on paper and let them out. Then, if you want to be rid of
the anger, tear up that paper, Burn it, throw it away, flush it. The important
thing is to let them out. Words are powerful and can tear you up inside if you
don’t find a way to let them out.
The day of my
father’s funeral, I was asked to speak. I did. But as I watched the sun come up
over the Pacific, thinking of times when he stood beside me watching that same
sun over that same ocean, I wrote. I wrote and wrote and wrote. I wrote as
tears came down my face and blurred the ink on the page. And I took a poem that
I wrote, unedited and unchanged, and read that to the people who came to share
their stories. This is that poem.
The question is not
Whether the tree,
Alone, falling,
Makes a sound.
The question is,
When a great tree
falls,
How do we listen?
How can we know?
How do we hear
Before it is too
late?
To witness such
majesty
To honour age and
strength
To be there, to be
present,
To listen with our
hearts
Knowing all the
while
With such a great
tree
We are powerless
We can do nothing
But stand there
And be witness
To the end
eden
Beautiful and very sad I'm sorry for your loss.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful words, Eden. I'm sorry for your loss and wish your family all the best in the coming days.
ReplyDeleteI'm so sorry for your loss, Eden, but these are very wise words.
ReplyDeleteEden, I will be thinking of you as you grieve the loss of your father. Thank you for sharing your heart.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful writing; beautiful poem. What a tribute to your father, Eden. And how true it is that, when grief strikes, a writer can find solace in writing. I know I have.
ReplyDeleteI love your poem, Eden. It is wonderful that your father inspired you to write such beautiful words--I saw and felt someone strong in that poem.
ReplyDeleteThis is simply gorgeous. Thank you for being so honest with us about the beauty of family and the gift writing can be in the midst of turmoil. I can see you are both a lovely daughter and mother.
ReplyDeleteI cannot explain how your poem spoke to me, so I won't attempt to. But I will say this: thank you, Eden.
All best. xoxo
Wow, the poem is powerful, but this part is so profound and enlightening:
ReplyDelete"I’ve taught my children to use this source of liberation. If they are angry or sad, let the words out. Put them on paper and let them out. Then, if you want to be rid of the anger, tear up that paper, Burn it, throw it away, flush it. The important thing is to let them out. Words are powerful and can tear you up inside if you don’t find a way to let them out."
Such great advice. And true. Strength and prayers to you, Eden.
You are all so kind and talented and wise. I feel honoured to be counted among you. Thank you for listening.
ReplyDeleteeden
Stellar writing. Stellar writer. Stellar advice. You make me proud to be in the writing business ... And to be your publisher.
ReplyDelete