I Write Because I Have To….

Have you ever had this overwhelming urge to do something?

Like your life won’t be complete unless you do it? That’s how I feel most days

when I get a chunk of writing done. I don’t know why I’m like this; I don’t

know that I want to know. I like how I am. But sometimes my fingers just start

burning if I can’t get my thoughts or feelings down on paper (or Word.) The

sounds of the keys typing brings me peace. Like right now, I’m sitting with my

head back against the chair and my eyes closed as I type this, thinking about

how nice it is hearing the keys go up and down. If I could type on a typewriter

and easily import it into Word, I would.

Yes, the sounds of the keys give me peace. It’s the best

kind of therapy. You see, there is no one judging you. The computer screen doesn’t

give you any looks of sadness, sympathy, hatred, agony - nothing. It just is. Sometimes

we have thoughts we are too scared to vocalize, or we are too afraid to hurt a friend's

feelings. So what do we do? Well the lucky ones let it out in some way while; the others

bottle it up.

But this, this is my slice of heaven. Now you might wonder

why I’m talking about this. Well, it’s because of the story I wrote about

Christmas. You see, I don’t deal with grief well. The previous encounters with

death I’ve had in my short life, I didn’t accept or cope, I held onto my pain,

my anger, my sadness, and I let it devour me. It consumed me from the inside

until it had nowhere to go. I couldn’t let that happen again. I didn’t like

being sad and blah. I didn’t want one man’s death to mean that yet again I

would run and hide from the world. So this time I honored him.

My grandpa passed away on May 31st, only 140 days

ago. I can still close my eyes and smell the air in the room the night he died.

I can see his body. I can see everything. I can feel my heart breaking, feel the tears I

wept. But I also remember his life, his voice, his laugh, and his amazing wisdom. He

made me promise on December 29th that I would not let his illness

consume me. That I would be strong for my mom and grandma. That I would be the

fighter and do good. So when he asked me to write a story about someone in

Ireland to represent my Irish roots (to offset my Arabic ones of Blood Purple’s

people) I decided then that instead of being lost in death I would celebrate

life.

A few years back I worked on his Ancestry and I traced his

roots through time. The characters in “Bud’s Christmas Wish” include names

taken from my lineage. This short Christmas story meant more to me because it’s

how I honored my grandfather and how I said goodbye to him. I loved him for all

that he was for me, and I still feel him with me. I know he is here now,

standing behind me, watching and helping me. He’ll always be in my heart,

always with my spirit.

Fathers and Grandfathers mean so much to daughters. I know without

these men in my life I’d be nowhere near what I am today. So, at 140 days from

the saddest moment in my life, I sit here smiling. Because writing has helped me

mourn the loss of a family member and helped me honor him in the same moment.

Without writing I’d be lost.

 COMING SOON.....

Bud's Christmas Wish

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NEW RELEASE, BLOOD PURPLE

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