This going to be a personal post. As my family and I head into November there are so many things to reflect on. Up until now I haven't used this blog an outlet for personal feelings. I've kept much of it to my own family circle, and have found an odd comfort in grieving publicly on social media. That is not normally my speed. I am usually a rather private person, but as some of you know, my stepdad Bruce was a larger-than-life person with a large circle of work colleagues whom he withdrew from as he got sick from cancer. My family and I felt it was appropriate to draw many of them into our circle as we dealt with his loss.
As I write this, I think of how spending so much time online reading about other people and their lives makes me want to sum things up in some pretty lesson. The Insta-lesson with a pretty sunset pic to wrap it all up. The truth is, there aren't that many neat, tidy lessons here. Loss is just as messy as life, and trying to tie up a million loose threads of a complex person is a job in and of itself.
So I don't have any "top 10 tips" or "3 things learned", from a year and a half of disease, loss, and all with political turmoil as the backdrop. It all seemed to constantly pile on. I've been spending some time trying to clear the pile and carry on. Bruce would never want me to just sit at home weeping. He'd want me up and out of the house with the cameras on. He'd want me creating as much photography as I can, and to keep doing all the creative things I always do. He'd want me to continue the work I do with Camp Bravo, which he was a big part of as well.
There's a keep-it-going rule I'm implimenting here. I can get stuck in the grief, and the enormity of trying to manage an entire photo studio's worth of stuff left behind. But I have to keep going. Even as I type this last sentence, I feel Bruce poking my shoulder and urging me to get up and go about the day.
I came across a letter via Austin Kleon's blog that resonated with my feelings today as I wrote this post. From the blog The Red Hand Files by Nick Cave, his thoughts on grief:
"I feel the presence of my son, all around, but he may not be there. I hear him talk to me, parent me, guide me, though he may not be there. He visits Susie in her sleep regularly, speaks to her, comforts her, but he may not be there. Dread grief trails bright phantoms in its wake. These spirits are ideas, essentially. They are our stunned imaginations reawakening after the calamity. Like ideas, these spirits speak of possibility. Follow your ideas, because on the other side of the idea is change and growth and redemption. Create your spirits. Call to them. Will them alive. Speak to them. It is their impossible and ghostly hands that draw us back to the world from which we were jettisoned; better now and unimaginably changed."