Well, Grieving Is A Process

“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.”
― William Shakespeare, Macbeth

So my experience in going to the "wrong" class - Grief Recovery, has been another type of fascinating journey. At the moment person is reading the book written by the author I saw, Sue Frederick, book -Bridges To Heaven based on my wandering, and sharing. One who just happened to be visiting here the day after the workshop, went home with the copy of the workshop. The two of them are sharing with each other. It is beautiful, compassionate, they were ready to reach out for a deeper understanding of their deep, devastating losses. Brave. Much fresher wounds than mine.

Both, also, reading a book I gave to each of them, Testimony of Light: An Extraordinary Message of Life After Death by Helen Greaves. I shared a little tentatively - it was like lighting a match to kindling - so open, curious, ready, I would say I had no idea, yet, something allowed me to share.

So, I was pondering why share old grief publicly, isn't that a bit like sharing one's dirty laundry. Perhaps. While I waffle internally about the "publicness" of what perhaps should be a private matter, I push on anyway, why? Don't know, don't know. But it is an internal push. I scary thought arose right now that said it is an effort to be known, to be truly known. Oh, heavy sigh. Maybe. Scary thought. Can't say yes or no at the moment. I am clenched my jaw LOL, and leaving it here for now.