Hanging on meant living in the moment and dealing with the pain. I allowed myself to cry. Sometimes I even screamed or yelled, but I prayed that one day my suffering would ease.
Hanging on was my willingness to search for anything that would help me feel better. That included reading books, going to support group meetings and crying along with other grieving people.
Hanging on was an expression of vulnerability. When I pictured myself slipping at the end of my rope, I gripped on tighter and prayed for the strength to continue.
Hanging on taught me how strong I was. I plodded onward and did the best I could.
No one can truly imagine another person’s pain while in deep grief. When I was deeply grieving, it was so painful I often wondered why I was still alive.
I find it unbelievable that I was able to continue working as an artist. I truly did not see color in the world; everything was in black and white for years and years.
And then one day, I saw color again.
LINKS TO BLOG STORIES AND RECORDINGS: