The hubbub has ceased and everyone has returned to their lives. Except me. I am unsure what life is for me at this juncture.
While the paperwork involved with a death is huge, it is amazing how that life is removed from official record. I once heard that leaving was like removing one’s hand from a bucket of water – the ripples subside and the water is calm again, as if the ripples never existed. Surely a good life cannot be erased that easily. It cannot be, at least not from the hearts and minds of those who knew them.
Today, I sorted through some paperwork and gravitated towards my computer. It’s been a struggle to even think of my half-finished story, but I looked forward to reconnecting with my characters for the first time. So, part of my question was answered.
Writing is a part of my life that will remain. And, the thought gives me joy.
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