DOES SADNESS BELONG ON THE PAGE FOREVER?

DOES SADNESS BELONG ON THE PAGE FOREVER?

Yes it does.  

SADNESS BELONGS ON THE PAGE (in a painting, in a drawing, in music) FOREVER.  FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER.  IT CAN LIVE THERE FOREVER SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO FEEL IT EVERY SECOND OF YOUR EXISTENCE. I didn’t know this truth when I started writing poetry, but I figured it out when my chapbook edits were complete. 

“AHHH, I BUILT A HOME FOR MY GRIEF TO LIVE IN.”

“7 Years of Grief” is the home of my acute ache.  My desperation and sadness sit on my book’s front porch with lemonade and wave to the events going by on the sidewalk.  In hindsight, I should have included a backstory introduction with the poetry collection in case someone beyond my friends read the book.

Honestly I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell the backstory since it all happened.  I danced in and around the topic so much that the writing became poetry (and you know it's bad if you resort to poetry).  The metaphors and my perspectives keep changing each year. Different details focus in and out of importance.  Maybe that is the life work of everyone - to figure out our own stories as we continue to shape them.  Each of us is writing our own life novel.

This is the most succinct backstory of my book, “7 Years of Grief.”  Here it goes:

My first son, Bear, is born.  He is incredibly beautiful, a grayish shade of blue, and not breathing for 45 minutes.  Eleven months later, his diagnosis of quadriplegic cerebral palsy is confirmed.  Bear will need a lifetime of additional care. My husband and I decide to have another child to grow up alongside Bear. Jordan is born before Bear’s second birthday.

Jordan is diagnosed with leukemia when he is two.  He has a successful bone marrow transplant after months of extensive inpatient chemo and full body radiation. After a year in remission, we decide to have a third child (we shall entitle that future post “geriatric parents and the problems associated with placing caregiving expectations on your non-disabled children”) .  Two weeks after we learn we are pregnant, Jordan relapses.  I spend the majority of my pregnancy in the hospital with him.  Jordan, almost five years old, dies after two weeks in hospice.  Two months later, our son Jude is born.  

Since these events, I have questioned everything.  How do I make the most beautiful life to counteract our circumstances?  What kind of person would I be if I didn’t question or change everything? What kind of person could I become if I questioned and changed everything? How do I not raise traumatized kids?  What is the normal amount to cry when your son dies?  When will I be able to wear mascara again?  Is it possible to ever feel normal again?  How can I not feel this horrible anymore? Which book has the answers and what podcasts do I need to follow?   What do I do once I learn everything?  What is everything?  How can I make all of it count for something?  What is spiritual alchemy and how can I do that?  And what will my grief alchemize into? 

“7 Years of Grief” is dedicated to Bear, Jordan, and Jude.  

Sending you love,

Leann