|My Mom, 1940|
Life–and death–sometimes throws us into a tailspin. A year ago my dear mother died at the age of 94 from an inoperable form of cancer. She was strong and determined to the very end, just as she had been her entire life.
When my father died eighteen years ago, also of cancer, I found myself writing The Daughters of Luke McCall to somehow get myself past the grief. The book was intended to be funny and lighthearted–opposite of the pain and sorrow I had experienced from watching him die. I remember laughing through the tears while I wrote that book. It was somehow cathartic.
I couldn’t do the same thing after my mother’s death. Perhaps it was different because when my dad passed, my family and I still had her to hold onto. When any loved one dies, it leaves you with a hole in your heart and in your life that can never be filled. When it's a parent, you are still their child, no matter your age at the time of loss. Sometimes it takes a long time to step back into the world of the living and pick up where you left off.
Last summer, even though I couldn’t get my head around creating anything new, I put one of my older romances out as an ebook. It was something, a baby step. As for writing blog posts, nothing came to mind. And now, just today, I finally finished a book I had started so long ago that it’s embarrassing. (At least it's finished until I decide to revise again!) This one took me in a different direction from my other books. Nothing like stepping out on a limb!
As for posting to this blog–it’s going to take a different direction, too. More on that next time. The important thing to any setback in life is to eventually pull yourself up by the bootstraps and take the next step, leap the next hurdle, and move forward. It's what my mother would do.