Where Stories Takes Shape

Here I find myself in silence, with my make-shift therapist, my journal and pen in hand with so much on my mind to express. This birthday is the most difficult one I have ever faced. I feel trapped in my own personal hell, with only a faint stream of light shining above me—close yet just out of reach. Fear holds me stagnant. So, I sit in this unfamiliar darkness, trying to dissect my overwhelming current existence with my pen and journal. How did I get here? The words I write will not change my situation or provide answers.

Why such a somber tone? This is my first birthday anniversary without my son. He is no longer with us; he’s become our ancestor. It was not suppose to be this way. Today's therapy session involves exploring my pre-birth, my birth, and the birth and loss of my son. It's a heavy topic, I know. After pouring several words onto the page, I found no resolution—just more unanswered questions. The answers to most of those questions were buried alongside my hope. I sit, breathe, and feel trapped in this dark space, with that one thin stream of light still shining above me, always just out of reach.

Fast forward about a year: I’m ready to start my next journal entry. As I browse through the pages in search of a blank one, I stumble upon my entry from last birthday. Typically, I don’t revisit my writings, but today I felt compelled to reflect on it. After reading, I decided to expand on those thoughts. Now, here I am, sitting with my soon-to-be-published novel, which has provided me a vibrant pathway to creatively express my emotions. I’m finding clarity within my reach, and each day’s changes are becoming easier as my new normal embraces the cherished memory of my younger son, forever imprinted in my heart.

To be continued....until the next Blog.

We are all unique diamonds in the rough, each on our own paths to shine.

Peace be with you, dear reader.

In the Beginning ...