I write because someone died.
Death is at the core of nearly everything I do now. It is at the core of who I am now. Death has changed me, completely and forever.
It wasn’t just someone who died. Bob died. My husband. My best friend. A beautiful human. A kind, gentle, loving soul who was injured from the very beginning of his life. He carried unspeakable wounds and, tragically, they killed him.
Death came swooping in and, in one instant, changed the entire landscape of my life. It changed me to my deepest depths. It changed everything. Every. Single. Thing.
I write because there are words in my broken heart that can’t be spoken. I write because I want to remember. I write because I want to forget. I write because I need to. There has to be a way to process the pain.
I write because people suck at looking at, sitting with and being near death. Tragedy makes most people terrible friends. I write because I need people to try to understand. I write because death is a part of life and those who it touches shouldn’t be abandoned for it.
I write because death does cause destruction and pain and agony and loneliness and wounds that never quite heal. But it also produces beauty and generosity and growth and love and kindness and opportunities. I write because people need to understand….I need to understand.
I write because I’m better at expressing myself this way. I write because I am sometimes surprised at what comes out when I do. I write because it helps me. Sometimes, it hurts me while it helps me. But it’s always worth it.
I write because death has become my companion. I’ve gotten to know him intimately. I want people to know that there’s more to death than what you think. I hope that when they read my words, they will understand better what death brings.
I write because I hope to help people understand what grief really looks like. To help them stop being afraid to be near it. To show that it’s not contagious. To teach that it’s a part of life. That it’s not something to run from.
I write because someone I love died. I write because I want people to know him. I write to keep a part of him alive. I write to understand, as best I can, why it happened to him. I write to release my anger and sadness. I write to express my love.
I write because Bob died but he’s not gone. He lives in my words and my actions and my memories and my heart. I write to share some of that with the world. I write to pass on the beautiful parts of him. I write to share his story as a cautionary tale. I write because, sometimes, it’s all I can do.
I write because death is now a part of me.