Why Now?

 

Writing comes easily for some—my daughter, for example—while for me it only happens in bursts. Today, however, I decided to write because we aren’t promised tomorrow. When you wake to find out that a child, not even 10 years old, passed away yesterday—a child in your grandchild’s grade three class, a child named Liam, just like your grandchild who left us—you realize how fragile life is.

It stings like having your raw wounds reopened, like an overwhelming urge to cry out, scream, or even vomit. It’s a migraine of emotions. In that moment, you understand that life goes on whether you’re ready or not. That is the moment when you know: just start.

While the pain of this grief will always be there, writing might help turn this loss into something that connects us. Grandmothers and grandfathers, sharing their stories, can validate the reality of this doubled loss and double the grief. We may never fully heal, but together we can begin to make sense of it—and maybe, just maybe, help each other find a way forward.

Did something here speak to you?

Leave a comment if you feel moved, or simply sit with me in quiet.

If you’d like to walk this road with me, follow Nomadic Grandmother for new stories.

— x Elsabe