The birth of my book, Letters to Grief

After the unexpected transition of my mother, I wrote every month around the date of her passing and published it on Facebook. Remember when Facebook had notes? People read these notes and it resonated with them. It caught wind more than I thought it would. People began to say they had never read Grief personified as such and they had never had their experience put into such accuracy. This was my first post and now the beginning of my book: Originally written: 5/20/2017 ** Letters to Grief*** Dear Grief, You forced me to meet you exactly 30 days ago; I would say at this point we’re friends in the aspect that you know the deepest darkest parts of me. My friends also lift me up to higher heights and well, you’re failing in that aspect. You brought along your friends, anxiety confusion and rage, which is totally annoying as who asked them to the “party?” Anxiety to face the day, to put on a “brave face,” to frantically search my mind when clients ask “What did you do for Mother’s day?” As I immediately think “Ball my eyes out, dodge all texts/calls, and pray I don’t melt into the floor and be able to get back up.” Confusion clouds my thoughts like a morning fog that never leaves. I can’t recall words on command, my African Dance steps no matter how hard I try or gaps in conversation that I’m sure will be lost forever. Often, I am enraged that as culture we have no idea how to deal with you – grief – and we don’t want to learn. We want to keep our head stuck in the sand with anything that is uncomfortable.  I am enraged I had to read a “Happy Mother’s Day to you and your Mom text.” I am enraged after only 7 days of work I am getting a “you’re late on your client notes email” (no shit Sherlock) and enraged that every single day for the rest of this physical life I can never hear my Mother- my rock, my confidant, my best friend -voice in real time. And, on top of that, you make me feel guilty I am having these thoughts! Heaven forbid, I make someone else feel uncomfortable for sharing! Grief you are something else, I tell you. I might have to eat my words and say maybe you are lifting me up, making me a better person? Nah, that’s giving you too much power. It’s way too soon. Maybe you are unlocking strengths I thought I never had? That even sounds too positive for our new 30 day budding relationship. OH, yes I could get all spiritual and philosophical. I totally get it. We have to go through this. The bravest of the brave can only walk this walk. The toughest of the tough will see this through. Blah. Blah. The issue was never if I would get through it. It’s that I don’t WANT to. I don’t want this “New Normal” I’m tired of being tough. I am tired of being brave. And you’re making me. Ah, Grief such sophistication you carry. I hear you stick around for a life time. I hear you pop up at the randomness of moments. I hear you can still red eyes on an instance even after 20 years. I would say that is some resilience Grief. But … us… me & you, your momma and your cousins too – we’re going to work something out. Let’s chat tomorrow. You know where to find me.