The written word is extremely powerful.
I’ve always been partial to the written word: 1.) Because I was an extreme introvert as a child and it allowed me to communicate my innermost thoughts and feelings; and 2.) I’ve chosen writing as my career and throughout the decades it’s been one of the most rewarding decisions I’ve made in my entire life.
If there’s one thing the world has had an overabundance of these past few years it’s grief. During the pandemic grief and its close relative, trauma, have touched us all in some way or another. Most of us have lost loved ones, friends, our own good health, or even a livelihood.
One thing I’ve learned after losing my Father in 2020, and subsequently friends/acquaintances then, recently, our beagle Amstel is that grief tends to wash over us in powerful waves.
In some moments we can seem perfectly fine and can go on about our lives as if everything's alright. Other moments are the antithesis of fine, our emotions can come rushing to the surface and, at times, make us feel fraught with sadness and almost take our breath.
As in many other phases of my life, the written word has saved me throughout the long years of this Covid-19 pandemic. I stumbled onto an extremely effective way of processing grief and trauma so it can be released. The surprisingly simple method involves writing a letter directly to the source of my grief. It’s a rather effective way of getting out bottled up emotions and bringing a kind of closure.
Below is my most recent grief-letter. I wrote it just hours ago and already feel immeasurably better.
If you’ve experienced any kind of grief or trauma lately, I urge you to give it a try. I don't normally share these grief-letters but I'm sharing this one just as an example. If this method doesn’t work for you, at worst, you’ll be out a few minutes of your life. At best, it might be a helping hand to lead you to a place of healing.
Firsts
Today was my first walk alone without you. I took the same route we always did but it felt totally different and far less fun. How strange it was to not feel your leash wrapped around my hand. That feeling of that had become like second nature to me.
I missed hearing your bark when we passed by the hills you liked to run up and down. When I saw the salt on the sidewalk it made me remember how I’d pick you up so your paws didn’t burn.
Oh, your friend Bear barked as I was walking past. When you didn’t answer him I think he somehow knew. He’s doing fine, and is as loud as ever.
After a few weeks, each day is getting a little easier but this first was just as difficult as all the other firsts have been since you crossed that rainbow bridge.
Four o’clock in the afternoon will forever mean feeding time to me no matter where I’m at or what I’m doing.
We’ve decided to give some of your things to Barry. You met him a couple of times. He fosters senior dogs, I think you would approve of that. Don’t worry, we’re keeping all of your most favorite things – your bowls, toys, the puffer coat that kept you warm and the other dogs were jealous of, and your favorite blanket (the plush, Victoria’s Secret one).
Someday, years from now, we’ll get another puppy (don’t worry, it will likely be a beagle) and we’ll give him all of that stuff. I think that legacy would make you happy. That new puppy won’t ever be able to replace you or make us forget you.
The fourteen years of memories we made together will be kept close for our remaining years, revisited, and celebrated as they should be. We’ll smile and laugh as we reminisce about all of the good times we had, which are too many to count.
We’re both getting a tattoo next week in your honor so we have a constant reminder of you. We can’t thank you enough for our time together. I promise you will never be forgotten, little buddy.
You have all our love, forever.
All for now. Trust your instincts, invest in you, live boldly, and take chances.
~Eric Vance Walton~
(Gif sourced from Giphy.com.)
Poetry should move us, it should change us, it should glitch our brains, shift our moods to another frequency. Poetry should evoke feelings of melancholy, whimsy, it should remind us what it feels like to be in love, or cause us to think about something in a completely different way. I view poetry, and all art really, as a temporary and fragile bridge between our world and a more pure and refined one. This is a world we could bring into creation if enough of us believed in it. This book is ephemera, destined to end up forgotten, lingering on some dusty shelf or tucked away in a dark attic. Yet the words, they will live on in memory. I hope these words become a part of you, bubble up into your memory when you least expect them to and make you feel a little more alive.
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