I thought the words would dry up. A close relative of mine died yesterday morning. We’ve known the end was coming for a while and periodic bouts of grief have interrupted my writing. But I can still write. And something else – I find myself observing my feelings and the feelings of others around me and writing them down.
There is something about a writer that never stops watching the world
and the self. That part looks at how the people around me are
grieving and how the expression of their feelings stems from their
different personalities. Who makes it all about him/herself. Who
tries to protect others. Who stonewalls others. Who cries nonstop.
I feel a bit guilty about this part of my writer (given the
circumstances) but I am told by others that this watcher is a normal
part of being a writer. It makes observations and stores them away
for later use. This is part of “writing what you know” – in
this case, the many feelings and different expressions of grief.