Grief is a difficult thing. My father’s birthday was Friday. It marked his second year in heaven. It is so hard to describe this type of loss. The person who raised you, nurtured you, love you unconditionally is gone.
Survivor grief is lame. Life is different. Perspective seems nonexistent. Optimism seems false. It’s a new way of being. A function unfamiliar. So creative inspiration does not become a reality. What I’m saying is repetitive I know. I can’t help it.
I’ve stayed away so I don’t bring others down. However I feel like two parts of me are missing. My writer self…the daughter that lost her father. Is there a way to overcome this? Any advice appreciated. That is all I have tonight readers.
Writing and life are a work in progress…(just like me)😉
The writer in me...Her imaginative ramblings.. 
Leave a comment