Finally Ready to Write

 

I looked for and enrolled in a non-fiction writing class hoping to get inspired and receive guidance for writing a book on my favorite subject nutrition and spirituality.  What I got was what I call jokingly my “Story Hour for Seventy Year Olds”, a group of mostly senior citizens that have met together for many years.  They are pleasant and I do love hearing the stories they tell of their youth, particularly when they include known historical events.  Some classmates have shared life of grandparents in the early 20^th Century and others have shared a world that does not exist anymore of the 1960’s.   Sort of real life “Mad Men” that I find that interesting, especially, when it involves iconic local establishments that do not exist anymore.

 Lately, the stories shared by writers of my class have to do with loss of family.  I did not realize that today’s seventy year olds are probably losing their siblings.  Any loss in a family is tragic, whether a parent, spouse or god forbid a child, but a sibling is the only member of your family that spans the years at the same rate you do, thus, it is particularly sad because you not only have lost your future memories but also your past.  One class session, every story read by a classmate contained the tragic death of a loved one.  People died all kinds of ways.  I wanted to laugh by the time we reached the end of the reader list.  I started counting pages in my mind of the papers people were reading from and extrapolating my agony.  I tried to close my eyes while the stories were being read so that I could concentrate on the interesting parts, but eventually the tragic death presented itself in the story.  I tried not to laugh as I heard the frustration of the reader, in trying to find reason, the whys of how another person lead their life.  I kept thinking to myself that this was not really a non-fiction writing class, but a psychologist session, and that people have some screwed up lives.  I hoped that would justify my skipping a few classes, which I tried to do.  After feeling guilty about doing that I returned to class only to have the really nice people say how much I was missed…damn it. 

 I  have tried not to write about the recent loss of my mother in a descriptive, memoir-like way, so I read one of my nutrition articles that I write monthly for the website www.examiner.com.  The article, I felt, was was uplifting at the end, and I did offer suggestions about what to do when things do not go your way.  I did mention the loss of my mother in the article, after all.  Well, you would have thought someone won the lottery, the way the room lit up with seniors begging to give me advice and share their words of wisdom.  I was definitely overwhelmed and not appreciating the unsolicited advice.  I was also a little insulted that they missed the entire point of the article.  I wasn’t looking for help I was offering help to others.  They were not interested to hear what I had to say, but used my article as another avenue to share their distress, a verbal measuring stick of sorts, to see how far they have overcome their own personal bereavement. Everyone in the class had lost a mother (they were in their seventies), but my article managed to reignite those feelings of loss of a parent.  Or maybe just knowing I had recently lost a parent restarted those memories.  I do not know which is true, but it was not helping me in the least. 

 I came home and at dinner told my husband what happened in class.  He told me to stop going to class.  As the youngest child in my family I have learned to watch and listen to other family members and evaluate whether I agree or not with their life choices.  Sometimes it is easy to choose; particularly when they do something I view as stupid.  Other times it is more difficult because I am still angry that I even have to make a choice.  My husband is frustrated with me when I reevaluate past decisions regarding my mother and her health care, as she was in decline, before her death.  I made the best decisions I could at the time and had to give in to her opinion on many decisions.  In other words, I might have liked to do something one way, but for whatever reason she was not going to go along with me, or, that it was in her or my best interest not to do so. My husband wants me to stop rehashing things that cannot be undone.  I agree with him when I am calm and logical.   I also believe each individual has the right to their own opinion, even when I do not agree, the difference is perspective.  As a child and a teen I did not like it when my father smoked, when my parents fought over money, or when they wouldn’t let me go places or drive the car.  When I was first married I was not happy when my brothers did things I did not agree with, but it was their choice, even today as an adult sibling I don’t agree with some of their lifestyle choices.  As an adult I know there is nothing I can do about that and I will have to remember that when the  time comes.  

 Listening to the sibling stories in class I know my classmates logically understood the choices their siblings made, but when the stories were read aloud, you could still hear the anguish from childhood calling out “why?” in the voice of the writer.
 My children are old enough now I know I have to step aside my opinions even though I do not like it.  I know that if I do not they will never learn to think for themselves.  My hope is there is room for middle ground.  I want to have the discussion about big things and receive the respect from others for having an opinion about ideas even when it is not popular, reasonable or logical to others. 

The Bible is full of sibling stories of great tragedy and great promise but we only have to look at our own lives to find the comfort we seek.