Mourn the loss, celebrate the memory.
You can’t avoid it, especially as you age. We all have a date with that mysterious ending, that graduation off the earth and into the great beyond. And it’s not just old people who die, the young are taken by disease, accidents, violence, drugs and any number of unexpected reasons. And yet it’s often socially unacceptable to talk about it, about death, about loss, about ongoing grief.
As I cope with my degenerative disease, along with the death of friends, I forget to mourn the losses I’ve felt within my own body. I seem to get comfortable with one transition, then another comes along and I must adjust to loss of powers I continue to foolishly believe I will keep. I try to buck-up and carry on. But lately I’ve realized that’s unhealthy. I need, we all need, to mourn and sit with losses, both internal and external.
So, I’ve been working on this poem. I finally got it worded in a way that expresses my feelings, but I wanted to illustrate it. It took me a long time to figure out how, and I fear my illustration has made it illegible, so I’ve typed it out for you.
Grief
by Joy Murray
It’s like a bullet shot too close to the heart to remove. You sense the cruel steel of it, though doctors say you can’t possibly feel it anymore, it’s all in your head. But it’s in every beat, bruised over and over by the cold reality embedded inside you.
Or it’s like a splinter that goes deeper the more you try to release it. You wince and struggle to get it to the surface, but it’s stronger than you, this slender blade, this tender pain.
But sometimes it’s like a beam of light. You suddenly see the dust and chaos built up around you. A forgotten song plays in your mind. You clean your house. Memories flood around you through a prism, each flicker of color like a lost memory dancing.
I love it best when it comes in the middle of a hot and restless night, wraps its cool arms around me and whispers to my soul, I am here. I am here. I never left. And I finally understand, even in my deepest pain, what is eternal and growing within me – astounding, expanding, infinite.
~~~
I hope when grief sends you reeling out of your sense of security, or even when it creeps up on you years later, you welcome it with whatever power you can. Cry, bore others with your stories, stay awake all night reminiscing. Love again. Never love again. Sit with your feelings, embrace your grief, your memories — feelings that are precious and priceless.
~~~
Thanks for reading my blog. Feel free to share it, if you’d like.
This blog is brought to you by the generosity of people who support me on Patreon , buy my art, and who support me in so many different ways.
If you’d like to make a one time donation, you can do so at paypal
Cards and prints of some of my art is available on Redbubble. Also T-shirts and stickers and other odds and ends. When you click an image, in the lower right hand corner you’ll find a link to all the various products that these are printed on. If you have any trouble finding what you’re looking for, let me know. joyzmailbox@gmail.com
You can subscribe to this blog by email in the link below this post.
If you find a typo, let me know, and I’ll send you a postcard.
joy murray art~stories~life 
This is a beautiful written piece as well as a lovely piece of art. Thank you so much. It expresses much of what I’ve been through also lately and I appreciate your sharing. I’m going to forward it on to a couple of people I know.
Brenda J Hale Alice Faye’s friend in Norfolk now!!
Thank you Brenda. I’m glad resonated with you and I’m honored that you’re going to forward it to friends ❤️
I did not leave a comment then, when I read this piece of writing of yours, but now that we have become a little more familiar with each other, I have to say that I have read it more than once. I read it today again. It’s a beautiful piece, It is beautiful and it is painful, and all the more beautiful. I wish you all the peace that you can get and I’m glad that you have your own dialogue with art because it can be a beautiful friend too to help you through life. Thank you again for this writing. It’s got the quality of sheer experience and the art of putting words together to express it🌱
Thank you for your kind comment. It always makes my heart happy to know that my poems or art resonate with others. I like the way you say “art can be a beautiful friend.” It is so true. And as I age, all the more, because we will all be faced with more grief as we age as our loved ones leave the planet. I write poetry mostly for myself, but am sharing more this year because I think art should be shared, even though sometimes it feels scary to open up to everyone. On the other hand, people need to be validated in their feelings, both good and bad. Finding the right words and images that resonate with others is a delight, even if the subject is troublesome.
I have been enjoying reading your blog, your poetry and your paintings are always thoughtful and I get a lot out of them. But I can’t find a like button or comment section so I haven’t been able to like or comment on them. I understand not wanting to have a lot of communication on a blog but I just wanted to let you know that I enjoy yours.
Sorry Joy. I don’t know if you saw my last post telling about my having to change the account on WP because this account was giving me problems of all sorts. I just went into it today to check and saw your comment. My new url address is: https://olgaalvrubblog.wordpress.com/
It also appears in my last post of this site. My apologies again!
I love this “people need to be validated in their feelings”
I was able to find the like button on the new link you gave me. It is really no problem. I just want you to know that I enjoy reading your work. Thank you for putting it out in the world.
Thank you for this, for all your words. I might delete this account (the former one) in a few days time, so I’ll see you in the other from now on. Thank you again, Joy. What a beautiful name to write or pronounce.
❤️
Joy, this is beautiful. I have experienced quite a bit of grief in the last few years. In this insanely paced country that we live in, there is not enough (or any really) time to sit with our grief. Your work is a beautiful illustration of how grief works its way through our being.
I especially loved the last paragraph: “I love it best when it comes in the middle of a hot and restless night, wraps its cool arms around me and whispers to my soul, I am here. I am here. I never left.” Oh my, has this happened to me! And for me, it is the nighttime, the time right before sleep arrives that the struggle decides to pay a visit. And then it takes some breathwork and stillness to sit with those feelings.
Thank you so much for sharing your work.
Thanks for this touching response and comment. I understand and have those struggles with grief, and I feel like more and more of my work will about grief as I age. But Grief is love, we need to embrace it, and love all that has transformed out of our sight, but never out of our souls. I feel like those moments of grief and regret are visits from the souls of those we have lost, and sitting with grief helps me remember all that was good when they were here in this mortal mystery called life.
Yes. ❤️❤️❤️🙏
❤️