Beginning again... with grief.

Today was a perfect day to start my blog back up.  Today was spent catching up with a few friends who don't use Facebook. - which in itself isn't bad.  Their own claims of being poor communicators (which isn't something they're particularly proud of)  compounds it a bit and makes calls like these wonderful.  Poupee asked, as I talked about what a struggle 2011 had been, if I was writing. And I truthfully said "no."  Sandra, who knew me when I was a "writer" and had big dreams of being a "playwright" said that we are not people who shouldn't be writing.  I told her that I had kept a blog for years and had every intention to get it started again.  After the new year?  No.  Today.  Right now.  And so here goes.

Today, though, is a particularly hard day to come back to writing.  The last time I wrote in my blog I was grieving for my older brother's best friend - Dave - who had died suddenly.  At the time we thought he had been murdered though it was eventually ruled a suicide.  This event was a the first in a chain of tragedies - Kathy lost her brother.  Audrey's daughter was diagnosed with cancer.  And that was just the start. 

Yesterday, on Christmas, a leaguemate was driving with her family to visit their grandparents for the holiday when a large branch was blown down onto their car in a freak accident.   Her daughter was killed instantly and her husband suffered a broken neck.  The pain of knowing that a friend has lost a child is intense.  Heartache is truly given meaning in this situation. It's almost as if you can't catch your breath - a knot forms in your throat and you find yourself staring out into nothing.  You think of her.  You think of her kids.  You think of what she is doing or not doing.  You can't imagine her pain.  You can't imagine not seeing this child grow up to become an adult.  And you feel helpless.

And that is just your personal grief.  Then, in this modern, digital, social media world you watch other people grieve.  Those who were close to her: her family, her teammates (in this case), her island community are in this incredible and intense pain.  Some people own their grief.  Some own other's grief.  You see these heart wrenching posts and out pourings of support.  You see stories shared and glimmers of hope start to appear.  Then this amazing derby community pulls together to support this skater and her family.   You see their posts.  You see their offers of love and support.  You see the holiday spirit - compounding this incredible tragedy - push generously and sympathy into the spotlight - sharing it with this grief. You feel amazed and blessed to be a part of this. And your heart still aches for her...