Take a Walk among the Dead

The saying is that nothing is certain but death and taxes.

Benjamin Franklin was the one who gave us this quote when he said, “Our new Constitution is now established, everything seems to promise it will be durable; but, in this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes.”

We don't like to talk about death. This surprises me because death is something we are all going to experience. Yet, we get fearful when the topic comes up. So we push it aside. When my four-year-old son Daniel died, people were far from engaged when I told them about him.

I didn't want to have a reason to visit the cemetery where Daniel is buried. But over time, that changed. Over the decades, I've grown to see the beauty of the flowers, oaks, birds, and even geese, and experience the peace that is present. There's much to observe about cemeteries. Here are some of the things I've observed.

The cemetery teaches us not only about death, but about life. We realize life is short and unpredictable. How do we choose to live this life?

The cemetery is reality. We will die one day. We don't know the day or time. We've lost loved ones over the years. What have they taught us? How would they want to be remembered?

The cemetery has messages to glean on the tombstones. One of my favorite tombstones is where a man named Solomon is buried. The words inscribed on his stone are from 2 Timothy 4:7: I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

The cemetery is sacred. Many who have died there are people of faith and, as the Bible states, they have eternal life. Their bodies or ashes are buried, but they are alive in Heaven with Jesus. When you focus on that, it's enlightening.

The cemetery emphasizes calm and quiet. The dead don't speak. You can walk and even pray at your own pace and be in silence. No one will interupt you.

The cemetery gives inspiration. My family spent much time on the grassy lawns having picnics and tossing the Frisbee. Being there helped me write my grief and loss memoir, Life at Daniel's Place.

Don't be afraid to walk among the dead. Bring your notebook and pen. Stay a while, observe, breathe deeply, and learn.

To Cry is Human

Why Humans Cry

We’re the only species that sheds emotional tears, but much about them remains an enigma.

Read the article at the New York Times

By Dana G. Smith

Nov. 14, 2024

Crying is a quintessential human experience. Claire Danes does it. Kim Kardashian does it. Even Michael Jordan does it. And no matter how long it has been since you last shed a tear, there is no doubt that you’ve done it, too. Other species produce tears, but ours is the only one that scientists believe consistently cries not just to lubricate and protect the eyeballs, but also to express emotion — like after a breakup, at graduation ceremonies and while watching “The Notebook.”

What Kind of Crier Are You?

While they are one of the few things that make us uniquely human, in many ways, emotional tears remain an enigma. Research has revealed that our emotions are even more complicated than neuroscientists once thought; there is no one area of the brain that’s responsible for feelings of sadness or anger, for instance. And scientists have yet to scan people’s brains to see what happens while they are crying. Still, some progress has been made to help us understand human tears — to grasp what they’re made of, why we create them (some of us more than others) and why producing them can help us feel better.

The three types of tears

Practically any creature that has eyeballs produces two sets of tears: basal and reflex. Basal tears keep the eye moist, while reflex tears are meant to protect the eye from irritants like dust.

Humans also shed a third type, fittingly called emotional tears, when they are sad, frustrated, overwhelmed, happy or moved. All three types of tears are structurally similar in that they are primarily made of water, oils, mucus, antibacterial proteins and electrolytes, said Darlene Dartt, a professor of ophthalmology at Harvard Medical School.

You probably rarely, if ever, notice basal tears, which are released in tiny amounts throughout the day. As they evaporate, the temperature on the surface of the eyeballs drops slightly, which signals that the eyes should produce more basal tears to avoid drying out.

Reflex and emotional tears release more liquid, which is why your eyes well up while you’re chopping onions or why tears stream down your face at a funeral. That extra liquid mainly comes from special tear glands located underneath the eyebrows that are regulated by cells in the brainstem. With reflex tears, nerves in the eyes signal to the brainstem that tears are needed to flush out whatever is irritating them. For emotional tears, scientists think that other parts of the brain activate those brainstem cells to turn on the tear glands.

Why we evolved to cry

Lots of animals wail in distress. Experts think that they — and we — evolved to do so in infancy as a means of survival. That’s because the animals that cry vocally, namely mammals and birds, tend to rely on a mother or father. A robin chick’s peeps and a goat kid’s bleats are the baby’s main way to solicit care from a parent when it’s hungry, scared or in pain.

But animals don’t shed emotional tears when they cry. And for the first several weeks of their lives, neither do humans. Instead, similar to other animals, newborn babies produce a heartbreaking (and ear-piercing) bawl. Then, sometime in the first month or two, salty fluid starts to fall from their eyes as well.

It’s a bit of a mystery why we started to produce tears while upset, rather than continuing to cry with dry eyes like sloths or bats do. It’s possible that the act of scrunching up your face to unleash a yowl puts pressure on the eyeballs, stimulating the tear glands, said Ad Vingerhoets, an emeritus professor of clinical psychology at Tilburg University in the Netherlands and one of the foremost experts in human crying. That may be why yawning, laughing and vomiting can lead to tears as well, he added.

Tears may also hold an evolutionary advantage over howls, and as we age, we become more able to cry quietly. While anyone on an airplane can hear an infant wail, only those sitting in the seats near you will see tears roll down your cheeks while you watch the opening sequence of “Up.” In that way, tears can more subtly alert others nearby to someone’s distress without giving the person away to predators that may be lurking, said Lauren Bylsma, an associate professor of psychiatry and psychology at the University of Pittsburgh.

The reasons we cry change as we age

For the first years of our lives, we mostly shed tears related to our own experiences — a busted knee, a bee sting or a dropped ice cream cone. That starts to change as we grow older and become more emotionally and socially developed. We cry less in response to physical pain and more over our emotional connections to other people. “Your world becomes greater, so there are more people who become more important for you,” Dr. Vingerhoets said.

One of the most common reasons for crying is the absence or loss of a loved one, whether we’re homesick as children, heartbroken in adolescence or grieving a death at any age. We cry over the plights of others, too. These empathetic tears may occur because we are imagining ourselves in other people’s shoes, whether they are friends, strangers or even fictional characters. In fact, this is how scientists study crying: They show people a sad clip from a film and see if it turns on the waterworks.

While sadness is the emotion most typically associated with crying, what many tearful experiences have in common is a sense of helplessness or powerlessness. That feeling of powerlessness often accompanies tears of frustration, and it may even explain the tears some people shed when they feel emotionally overwhelmed, whether from joy, anxiety or awe. In fact, Dr. Vingerhoets called helplessness “the core element of crying,” since it harks back to the original evolutionary purpose of tears: needing assistance or support.

Why some people cry more than others

Cliché as it is, the biggest predictor of how often someone cries is gender. Research from around the world has found that women consistently cry more frequently than men.

Much of that difference is likely to be the result of societal pressures and gender norms, experts say. Consider the fact that little boys and girls cry about the same amount, said Jonathan Rottenberg, a professor of psychology at Cornell University. Only over time does a tearful gender gap start to emerge. Part of the reason may be that society largely teaches boys the importance of being tough.

“Boys might inhibit their crying for fear of violating a gender stereotype,” Dr. Rottenberg said.

Hormones may play a role as well. The gender gap in crying tends to emerge during adolescence, when sex hormones kick in, and one hypothesis is that testosterone may suppress tears or that swings in estrogen levels make the crying response more likely. But there is little research on the topic, and one of the few studies that examined the connection between hormones and tears found that, despite commonly held beliefs about premenstrual syndrome, women were not more likely to cry during any particular phase of their cycles.

Certain personality traits appear to influence how much people cry. Highly empathetic people tend to report crying more, as do people who are more neurotic, Dr. Vingerhoets said. Then there are things we do to our bodies that increase the odds — namely, drink alcohol and neglect sleep. Doing either can cause people to cry more easily, most likely because they lower inhibition, making it harder to hold back tears.

The benefits of a good cry

Perhaps the longest-running debate among researchers is why crying often makes people feel better.

One of the largest studies to investigate the concept asked thousands of people from around the world about the last time they shed tears. A little over half reported feeling better afterward, almost 40 percent experienced no difference and 10 percent said they actually felt worse.

Crying, especially when alone, may serve as a sort of self-therapy. “It forces you to think about whatever you’re crying about,” Dr. Bylsma said. “To deal with it cognitively, emotionally, and kind of process whatever that thing is that’s upsetting you.”

People tend to report feeling better if the crying episode was prompted by an issue that could be solved, like a disagreement with a partner, rather than by a situation outside of their control, like the loss of a loved one, Dr. Vingerhoets said.

In social situations, the biggest factor influencing how you feel after crying is how the people around you react. People who receive a supportive response, like a hug or validation of their feelings, tend to feel better, while those whose tears are met with anger or ridicule are more likely to feel worse.

This makes sense, as experts think the primary purpose of the tear, no matter your age, is to communicate distress to others. “It is there to signal to others when help is needed and when someone is feeling separated and not attached to care,” Dr. Rottenberg said.

The lesson: When someone cries around you, show you’re there for that person. The science says it really does help.

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Chocolate Chip Cranberry Bread For Valentine's Day

Chocolate Chip Cranberry Bread

Ingredients:

• For the Dough:

o 3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

o 1/2 cup granulated sugar

o 1 packet (2 1/4 teaspoons) active dry yeast

o 1 teaspoon salt

o 1 cup warm milk (about 110°F)

o 1/4 cup unsalted butter, melted

o 2 large eggs

o 1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

o 1/2 cup dried sweet cranberries

• For the Topping:

o 1/4 cup chocolate chips (for sprinkling on top)

o 1/4 cup chopped nuts (optional)

• For the Glaze (optional):

o 1/2 cup powdered sugar

o 2 tablespoons milk

o 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Instructions:

1. In a large bowl, combine flour, sugar, yeast, and salt. In a separate bowl, whisk together warm milk, melted butter, and eggs until smooth.

2. Gradually add the wet mixture to the dry ingredients, stirring until a soft dough forms. Gently fold in the chocolate chips and dried cranberries.

3. Knead the dough on a floured surface for about 6-8 minutes until smooth. Place it in a greased bowl, cover, and let it rise in a warm place for about 1 hour or until doubled in size.

4. Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Punch down the dough and shape it into a loaf. Place it in a greased loaf pan (larger than 9x5) or into two smaller loaf pans. Sprinkle the remaining chocolate chips and nuts on top.

5. Let the dough rise again for about 30 minutes, until it rises above the rim of the pan.

6. Bake for 30-35 minutes or until golden brown and the bread sounds hollow when tapped. Allow it to cool in the pan for 10 minutes before transferring it to a wire rack.

7. For the optional glaze, mix powdered sugar, milk, and vanilla extract until smooth. Drizzle over the cooled bread.

The Boxers Who Made Me a Dog Lover

Just wanted to share some photos of these three boxers--Levi, Bella, and Harley. They have won my heart! Sadly, Levi (posing near the sidewalk and dancing outside with Bella when she was younger) is no longer with us; he died December 2020, but he is forever loved.

Reflections from an Oasis Novice

After reading gardening magazines, I knew our outdoor space needed elevation. "Cement blocks," I said. "If the planters are at varying heights, that will add to the appearance." No boring one level stuff for me anymore!

My husband said, "Okay," and went to the local home improvement store. He not only came home with cement blocks for my plants, but wooden beams, and a plan. You have to love a husband with a plan. Curious, I listened as my simple wish for elevation blossomed into much more. He built a raised flower bed with three tiers. He ordered topsoil. We could expand the region and not just have a few planters, but a larger place of respite and beauty which needed a short fence to define the space. And we'd need bark mulch to cover the ground. Of course, my husband ordered mulch.

He constructed a bench and off to the store we went---together this time---to purchase cushions for it. He converted a cooler into a wooden drink stand. He christened the location with a sign: Alice's Little Oasis. When we found pillows with Oasis stitched on them, we knew they were meant for us.

In the tiered bed, I planted coneflowers, daisies, and dianthus and watched them grow and bloom. The following spring I planted arugula, red lettuce, and Swiss chard. I bought more to plant---coreopis and candy tuft. The garden grew in content as well as space.

But one afternoon the arugula and red lettuce were chewed. The coneflowers had been gnarled to their roots. Rabbits! I'd seen one scamper. I yelled at the hoppy creature the next day as he darted away from the raised bed into the neighbor's yard. I understood Mr. McGregor in the Peter Rabbit tales in a new way.

On an August morning, I noted that the leaves from taller plants were gone. The bee balm, which had been flourishing, had one leaf. Who was able to get to the tops of these stalks? It must be deer. I could no longer blame only the rabbits. "Get mint and rosemary," were some suggestions from social media friends. "Deer and rabbits hate those." We had rosemary. We had mint. The hosta leaves were devoured and they sat right beside a large planter of mint. Even the leaves of peacock orchids had been tampered with.

I felt defeated. I didn't want to spend any more money on flowers. Although the Swiss chard was next to the lettuce, it had not been eaten. Perhaps the wildlife doesn’t like Swiss chard. I transplanted it to a higher bed. Weeks later I saw it was thriving.

The peacock orchids had bloomed; but not all 50 from the bulbs I'd planted in the early spring. There were plenty of stalks, green and long. But only one of them had produced flowers. I kept hoping more delicate white flowers would arrive because I'd imagined the Oasis flourishing with them.

As I've entered this world of determined gardening, I think of the obvious notion to give up. Forget this illusion that I'll get flowers and plants to provide the sanctuary I desire. What else does this all tell me? Read more books on how to be successful? Don't let the critters get me down? Keep going? Better luck next year? Or perhaps, get a large hoe like Farmer McGregor and chase those four-legged nibblers?

When I think about how we expect things to go as we think they should or as we think they do for others, the Oasis comes to mind. We want to have our gardens, as well as our lives, turn out the way we want or the way we imagined they should go. I've had to take the time to ponder the other lessons, perhaps the more important lessons, along the way. Can I look at life in a new way? Can I discover beauty in the midst of uncertainty? I tell myself to focus on that which has grown (and has not been destroyed) and that which makes the Oasis pretty, even if it is not as robust as I had hoped. See the glass half full. I plant and try to protect, but so much of what happens in a garden is not up to me. Just like in day-to-day living. I'm not as much in control as I'd like to believe I am.

And that is my two-cents as an Oasis Novice.

One Word Can Set You in Motion

Getting started can be the problem. This can be when gearing up to clean a closet or paint a room or sweep out the garage. It's especially true with writing. In our minds, we craft monumental things we want to express. But making time to sit down to write from our thoughts can be an act of avoidance. Just like with a chore we push aside, we make excuses.

I often say gearing up to write doesn't have to be difficult because it only takes putting two words together. Beautiful day. I'm sad. Life's hard. Let's eat. After two words have been scribbled before us, we feel relief. We've made a start. The two words invoke us to add more to our note page and soon we've included why we're joyful or sad and why life is hard and what we want to eat. We've primed the pump, we're ready to continue. Two words.

However, lately I've realized there is an easier way to dive into a time of expressive writing and it comes with realizing the power in just one word---one single word. From one word, a word that acts as a theme for the rest of our prose, we can create pages of sentences.

Go on a field trip to collect this one word. Perhaps when you open your eyes and ears as you attend to your daily routine, you’ll hear a word that inspires you or ignites your mind. Maybe it's a word that has come up in your recent conversations. Sit with the word. One word. Write the word at the top of your notebook page. And then, let your mind flow. For example, if your word is rebuild you would ask yourself what that word means to you. Rebuild. Let the meanings flow---Starting over, getting my thoughts organized, gaining confidence after my loss, finding a new purpose, letting go of some of my past in order to focus on my future, etc. From there look over your words or phrases that come underneath your main word rebuild. Where do these additional words take your thoughts? Keep thinking and writing. Don't worry about grammar or punctuation, the goal is to get words on the paper. Soon you'll wonder why you had trouble starting this exercise because you will have pages and pages written by you!

From the compilation of your pages you can find other themes to tackle. You never know where starting to write will lead you.

Writing is good and cheap therapy! Bask in it.

Larger Than Pocket Faith

Pockets are for car keys,

mints and tissues—the kind my grandmother used to store

Wider pockets for a letter, a wallet, a grocery list

Carrying, containing, safe-keeping



How many times I have looked

Wanting to find God inside my pocket

To fit my plans, my thoughts, my ways, my desires.



Creator of the Magnolia tree, the worker bee,

God of miracles, the Red Sea parting,

God of the stars and moon and depth of valley



Why do I insist that my pocket could contain your magnitude,

harbor your excellence and reduce your glory to fit me?

Weary, I come to you to beg



Living Word, Sovereign, Faithful, Almighty God

Gift me larger than pocket faith

Save me from myself.



~Alice J. Wisler (First published in Foreshadow on 6-16-24)

Unburden

We all have stories to tell. Small, silly, surprising, large, sad. Sometimes we write the encounters in our journals. There are nights we unleash onto the pages to help us understand what transpired during the day. We include our emotions, our sorrow, and our joy. We write to help us handle the bumps in life. We write to gain insight into this world and our reactions to what occurs.

We tell our stories to one another. What are we saying as we say our words? Hear me. Acknowledge my situation. Listen. Once we've shared our stories, we often feel we've been heard and acknowledged. The story is out and no longer just living in our heads. Of course, there are times when we feel no better after having shared. The person or people did not hear us as we needed to be heard. There are times instead of being understood, we feel we have been misunderstood.

The big story (for me) that I wanted to tell was about my son Daniel. When I knew I not only wanted, but needed to write a book-length story about him, I set about doing that. Ever since his death, I'd written in journals, and then I wrote numerous articles and poems. Many of these were published in magazines. They didn't tell the whole story of what happened to Daniel and our family after his death. I needed to tell more.

As the pieces of Daniel's story came to me, I wrote them. For twenty-six years I wrote, trying new angles. I had files and files of various manuscripts but couldn't figure out the best way to present the story.

"Unfinished projects take up a lot of space in our heads and hearts, particularly when it's something we feel 'called' to do and it defies logical sense," writes Louisa Deasey, author of A Letter From Paris.

During a visit to Daniel's Place (what my children named the cemetery), the premise for my book became evident. Finding solace at the cemetery was what had emerged over the years. The first time I saw my son's grave marker I hated the grassy resting place, I despised what had happened to our family. I felt shame, guilt, and despair. As time progressed, the cemetery became a family outing, a place to lift helium balloons, and a haven for spiritual growth. Why had it taken so long to realize this was the angle to use to construct my story? I wrote, hired two editors, and decided to publish on my own. At last, when my memoir, Life at Daniel's Place, was completed, I felt at peace. After years of hoping to get the story out, now it was out!

Not all stories need to be put into book form. But if you harbor this desire to thread your story together and publish it, don't give up!

Even on a Deserted Island . . .

Have you ever wondered why grief catches you offguard?

Recently, my husband and I watched one of Celine Dion's concerts on TV, and after the last song, I felt this tinge of sorrow. No stranger to sorrow, I was aware of the tinge. Because I'm the type that labels my tears and emotions, I asked myself why I felt sorrowful. What was this sudden onset of an ache in my heart? Was it due to the song Celine Dion sang at the end, My Heart Will Go On?

Perhaps that was it, I concluded. I smiled at the two photos on the mantel of Daniel, my four-year-old who died from cancer treatments in 1997. The song, along with the movie that made it famous (Titanic) came out shortly after Daniel's death. My eldest daughter and her friends sang it at a family and friends event the first Christmas without Daniel. I recalled how I had listened to every word and couldn't hold back tears.

It must be that song, I decided after my husband turned off the TV. After all, no signifcant date like Daniel's birth or death date was approaching. Christmas was over six months away.

It was days later when I stood in the upstairs hallway that I found the reason why I had been sad. There on one of the walls hangs the bear and quilt painting I had purchased at the Raleigh flea market days before Daniel's birth. When a vendor asked when I was due, I'd said, "Yesterday." Daniel was late arriving and sat on my sciatic nerve, making it painful to walk. I placed the watercolor in the room we had decorated while waiting for his arrival.

Across from the painting is a curio cabinet I bought after Daniel died. In it are some of his favorite toys---airplanes, Matchbox cars, and a collection of tiny books we read to him in the hospital. Next to the wooden cabinet is the plaque a cancer organization gave us after donations were made in Daniel's memory. In the nearly twenty years that we have lived in this house, I never realized the significance of the wall sharing an item I bought before my son was born and one I bought after he died.

While that was one of those aha-moments, the real aha came when it hit me why this was a tough week. Sunday was Mother's Day! We'd be celebrating with family and my three children. And, once again, Daniel would not be with us. Why had I not connected the dots? The first Mother's Days since his death, I had been keenly aware of how bittersweet the special day would be. Now twenty-seven years later, I was surprised the days before Mother's Day could cause a pang of sadness.

I've often said that a mother could be on a deserted island without a calendar and yet still know that a significant day surrounding her deceased child was approaching. You cannot hide from it. That's how tightly looped mamas and the holes in their hearts are.

This is grief. And we grieve because we love.

Express yourself! Pick up your pen!

If you see someone with an opened notebook and pen in deep thought, you might think he or she is writing the next great novel. But the truth could be, the person is writing for health.

Writing for health? What does that mean?

When we suffer a loss --- either the death of a loved one, a broken relationship, a firing from a job, a financial crisis, or a diagnosis that is difficult --- our minds and bodies are affected. We often cry and want comfort.

As the situation continues, we look for ways to help us cope with the magnitude of our loss. We can feel isolated because no one understands the full picture of what we are going through. There are times we don't understand it all either. Our grief is unique and we are new to it. We know we have to manuever through, but how is this done? Our days feel sad and desperate.

This is when writing enters the scene.

Writing is a healthy way to unleash pent-up angry, sadness, and other emotions friends, family, and coworkers might not care to hear. The emotions have to go somewhere, and putting them onto paper is a lot healthier than yelling, slamming the door, or kicking the cat.

When we write about the heartaches, the pain flows from our hearts onto paper. This eases the anguish, even if only for a while. We've shared our emotions and ponderings with paper. The paper carries a portion of our sorrow for us.

Studies have shown the beneftis of writing for health. Dr. James Pennebaker conducted a study among students at the University of Texas that proved expressive writing lowers blood pressure, pulse rates, and provides better health all around.

So the next time you have to deal with a major---or even minor---sorrow in your life, get a good notebook and pick up your pen and write! You will be suprised at what your heart wants to convey and encouraged as clarity and calm spring forth through your written words. If you're smart, you'll spend ten to fifteen minutes each day writing. The important factors are to not worry about spelling, penmanship, or whether you will be judged by your emotions. No one has to see your words. The notebook is for you only. Discover how picking up your pen leads to a healhier life as you journey through your anguish.

~*~*~*~ Join us for the Weep Boldly; Write Bravely Writing Workshop, Saturday, April 27th at the Hampton Inn in Raleigh, NC.

And Then I Met James

The older we grow as we travel this journey called Life, the more we realize we don't walk alone; many have influenced us. Friends, family, clergy, and others have provided guidance over the years.

After my son died, I filled journals with emotions, questions, woes----basically, lots of pain. Most of the pages were not ones I wished to share with anyone. Even though I felt I was losing my mind, fading from who I used to be, and finding the future scary, writing gave me comfort. Journaing brought clarity, and sometimes even solace. To help me on my rocky journey, I also devoured books about grief from memoirs to tomes on writing. It was in Louise DeSalvo's book that I met James Pennebaker.

Who is James? In a nutshell, he's a professor at the University of Texas at Austin whose studies have shown the value of expressive writing when dealing with turmoil. James' work piqued my interest.

In one six-week study, he had half his class write about trivial things and the other half write about wounds and the more sorrowful parts of life. At the end of the study, those who had written deeply were healthier. Pulse rates, heart rates, etc., were checked before and after the study to prove this.

James writes: “If keeping a secret about a trauma was unhealthy, it made sense that having people reveal the secret should improve health. As a social psychologist, I was concerned with having people talk about their secrets to another person because of the complicated social dynamics that would likely result. Consequently, I decided to have participants write about the most traumatic experience of their lives or, for those in a control condition, write about superficial topics.”

I knew writing worked, but because of James' studies, the value of writing as a tool for healing has become more "scientific" for me. The findings from his work are evidence I can use when I advocate for writing as a means of healing. It's not just me telling others writing works because it worked for me (and continues to do so), but there is research that validates how effective what I call "grief and loss writing" is.

My "After Daniel" journals were safe places to unleash all the feelings bottled in my heart. These tear-stained epistles now sit in my closet in a large canvas bag given to me by Sascha, a twice-bereaved mom, poet, and friend. These journals represent my journey of healing, and are one of the reasons, like James, I believe in the writing-health connection.

Writing through life's traumas is good therapy!

Can Grief Make Us Creative?

I remember being overwhelmed, guilt-ridden, and shocked at tears that sprung on me in the bank, the cereal aisle, and when watching a commerical on TV for St. Jude's. As I cried at the clinic, I told my midwife I feared my excessive tears would hurt the baby in my womb. I recall those early days of wanting to drive into the truck ahead of me on the road and die. I could not do this bereavement life, I could not continue in a world without my son Daniel.

Yet I, somehow, was propelled to write. Not just in my journal, but articles, poems, and essays. I didn't have energy to meet with friends, but I could sit at my kitchen table and put words onto paper. Ideas for articles filtered through me as easliy as waves topple the shore. I jotted outlines onto note cards while my toddler napped and and my eldest learned to read at her elementary school. I submitted some of my work to magazines and newsletters. When my first piece was published, I danced around the living room shouting to the sofa and walls, "Daniel, we did it!"

Often the phone rang as I wrote; I ignored it and let the answering machine take the call. Grief flattened my self-confidence, my purpose, and my faith. But writing kept me sane and motivated. Writing helped make sense of the senseless death of my four-year-old boy. The ability to express myself made me bold. Best of all, the connection I felt to Daniel as I wrote about him made my heart feel warm and hugged.

And then when another bereaved parent wrote to say my article communicated what she felt but was unable to form into words, I felt heard and understood.

~~ Alice J. Wisler believes in the power of the pen for healing, health, and hope. Join her on April 27th at the Hampton Inn and Suites in Raleigh for an all-day writing workshop, Weep Boldly; Write Bravely.