Unedited Thoughts: 3 Months Without You

Time has both crawled and flown since my last post, and I’ve let much artistic work fall by the wayside. That’s alright, it’s part of the grieving process. What I think we’re all afraid of (much of the time, anyway) is sharing something we deem “imperfect”. Today marks 3 months since my mother passed, and as an experiment in allowing my thoughts to escape as they need to (and since the goal of calming creative is a safe place to share where and who we are in the moment), here is a jumble of my unedited thoughts as I get through today.


In the 3 months since losing you, I’ve been through what I thought I could imagine but never fully could. I am so angry, sad, broken, alive, missing pieces that I’ll never find, the root of my tree will grow around this pain so I’ll be whole again but a little lopsided, a little crooked, a little less sturdy yet still in one piece, somehow. You gave me everything I need to grow and live. But everything before your loss feels like a dream. I struggle to hold on to every moment I got to have with you. I realize no amount of you would ever be enough, I’d always be left wanting more. But this very specific pain of losing you before any weddings, babies, decorating a home of my own, before all the brunches¬†and movie dates and laughter and life we were supposed to have, is breathtaking in its enormity and scale. Must I live the rest of my life without you by my side? I really have no choice? It seems wildly unfair, because I had plans and you were in them and they were my plans and I held onto them with every ounce of strength I possessed and still, still you were taken from me, from us. I was supposed to save you, though I know rationally that was an impossible task. The rule was, if I was here with you, nothing bad would happen to you. You’d be safe and we’d have all the time in the world. I close my eyes and I feel your hand in mine. Yes, perhaps now I get to take you with me wherever I go, and I will, but it will never be the same as I so wish it would be. Right now, that’s what hurts the most. There’s no fixing, there’s no silver lining. There’s only through, many places in a wilderness I do not wish to go, but here I am.




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Katie Meyers

Katie writes, sings and creates her way through life from her home outside of Chicago, with the help and supervision of her two cats. Katie publishes on the Calming Creative website, to create a cozy corner of the internet where creative people like her can get together without judgement or pressure - and calmly create.
doodlestar fish
doodlecream snail

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