Yesterday I found out that a long time friend is losing his battle with cancer. It has thrown me for a larger loop than one would expect. Yes, it’s heartbreaking, but it felt like more. this morning I realized that it brought back all the grief from when I lost my brother of heart. Nothing like a little PTSD on a rainy Monday morning.
I know what you’re thinking – “Where the hell has Tracey been and what kind of writer doesn’t write?” (or, as my EIC would say, “If a writer isn’t writing, doesn’t that mean they’re not a writer?”)
In Hell. Literally (Ok, maybe not literally). A stuck writer. That’s what kind.
Grief has eaten my brain, and stolen my creativity.
I lost someone a month ago who was incredibly important to me. Well, I didn’t’ “lose” him. It’s not like he was a set of car keys, or a sock that disappeared from the dryer, or my mind.
Sorry for that. I have a habit of trying to compensate for emotional issues with sarcasm and lame attempts at humor. Let me try again.
My friend died a month ago.
Wow. There it is, in black and white. The phrase I’ve avoided. I know it’s hard to read, but trust me, it’s harder to write…
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