During my career, I wrote something somewhere on a daily basis. Without fail. I continued after retirement. A writer never retires, someone told me.
But in 2014, when I became Harriet's caregiver, my writing ground to a halt.
In the next 11 years, I wrote almost nothing. I'm not a natural caregiver, I had to focus on it. Moreover I was a nervous wreck. Harriet had been dead for 3 minutes before she was revived. If she dropped dead once, she could drop dead again. (I was right. 11 years later she dropped dead in her sleep.)
Writing now about my grief and other things feels like a rediscovery of myself. This suggests that yes, I can still have a life,.
And here at Homewoods I am surrounded by people who have done this very thing, surviving the death of a spouse and creating a new life.
Even as I am feeling deep grief, I feel blessed to be here.
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