She slowly emerged from her pain cave.
To draw.
Finding meaning
in pain,
part of my grief process.
Making meaning.
Seeking the joy
in the meaning.
Holding the tranquility
in the pain.
(Most days are trying to hold back feeling as if I have a rotten fever, and trying to express this in words is easier than drawing it, but if I could draw what this process looks like, this is where I'd start.
Slowly emerging from a pain cave, just to draw.)
It feels like a huge ask, really.
This new
(three years in still feels new)
version of living.
No mountain climbing,
no quick running
up
to the castle,
no long trail walks with dog,
no telephone calls,
home movie nights,
cooking,
baking
or shopping.
Just a little
reaching out
to the space in front of me.
Hoping the daylight
isn't too much
and
I can keep my eyes
open.
Can I hold someone's hand.
Can I eat by myself.
Can I breathe in some fresh air from the doorstep.
Incremental gains,
the one percents,
are all I aim for. All I ask for.
Drawing is the biggest aim, it used to be something I took for granted.
Now, if I can get a sketch in,
I've won this battle.
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