Word Count =545 words
Estimated Reading Time = 2 minutes 42 seconds
Hello love. Another month has come and gone and I’m glad to admit that I have a lot to be thankful for in the precipice of yet another beginning.
My reading streak persists with a glorious fervor. I read Agatha Christie’s The Mystery of the Blue Train, Enid Blyton’s Six O’Clock Tales, Siobhan Dowd’s The Ransom of Dond, Roald Dahl’s Fantastic Mr. Fox, and Judy Hamilton’s Scottish Myths and Legends.
You can click here to read my reviews.
It has been a very deliberate move on my part to look for books that I like and schedule time to read them. It has also dented my finances quite a bit. But you cannot put a price on the satisfaction of consuming a good story (he said to abase his guilt) and these have all been such great stories in their own capacity.
I also attempted a bit of a solo challenge of writing a story a day and publishing them on Instagram. It only lasted a few days, but in the time that I was successful, I quite enjoyed myself. I rode the spirit of NANOWRIMO and in the end, I was able to start work on a little long-term project that will not materialize until much later. So yes, I’m very pleased with myself, all things considered.
It has been a hard time for me and my family as well. On 29th November 2020, I lost my dad when I was right in the middle of NANOWRIMO. It gutted me to the core that during a month that once brought so much joy, I would now recall the greatest loss. The unfairness of it is an unfading scar that I will forever bear.
In my grief, I was sure I wouldn’t have it within me to write again and especially in November, but time, it seems, has proven me wrong. We had a short memorial service on the 29th in which we took time to remember him, not that we can ever forget him. Then we shed a few tears and laughed and God allowed such a horrible memory to bloom with such hopeful promise.
What makes me swell with even more joy is that I have begun to pray again. It is a difficult thing to wrestle with grief and fractured faith. It is an even more astounding thing to find faith once more in the brokenness of grief. It is something you cannot understand until you have lost a loved one and had to face a God of love who allowed said loss to sweep with its vehemence.
I did not perceive healing within my grief. I did not want the comfort of a God who would be as unfeeling as to willingly allow grief to visit me so unexpectedly. Then again here I am, in the steps of healing, hand in hand with the same God I could not stand to face.
Love is a mystery and it propels us to do the unthinkable. It comforted me, dried my tears, and is slowly bringing me to a place of acceptance. I was not willing to get there, but now, slowly, I am starting to consider it.