Fiction writers tell stories that can help to process grief and loss
During our lifetime, we all grapple with the grief that comes from losing a loved one. It is one of life’s most stressful events and can cause a serious emotional crisis. The term bereavement means “to leave desolate or alone, especially in death.”
It takes time to absorb the impact of a major loss. We may have read about the stages of grief, including denial, confusion, sadness, despair, and acceptance. There isn’t a specific order for these, and we may not even experience all of them. How do we react and carry on with life? How does this affect our lives as writers? Grief may show itself in our writing even when we didn’t expect it to.
When I began writing poetry, I imagined writing mostly for adults. I wanted to write about the beauty of the natural world, the places I’d known, countries I wanted to visit, my early years, and issues about poverty and education. I was also an elementary teacher and soon began writing poetry for children.
I lost my father at the age of 61 to lung cancer. He was a lifelong smoker, and we can say he was well-liked by people outside our home but a poor example of a father and husband. He left the family when I was 8 years old and never returned. Eight children lived with my mother in a small twobedroom home in New Mexico. My stepfather came into the picture later and our lives improved after we moved to California.
After my father passed, I recall feeling extremely sad, lost, and hoping for relief. An older teacher with more life experience helped me to realize that my parents did not plan on marrying to live a life filled with strife, poverty, and despair. In their youthful minds, they undoubtedly pictured a life of happiness, children, and a good home. Her words began a process of healing for me that resonated later when I wrote poetry for adults and children. I worked to be a better father than my father and began to write inspirational poems and stories for children and families.
My years as an elementary school teacher gave me an outlet to create wholesome characters in various poems featuring healthy food for families. My second bilingual poetry book, “Dancing Fruit, Singing Rivers,” offers a poem called “Ballad of the Salad,” where a family works together to prepare a healthy meal. The mother and two children prepare a healthy salad with romaine lettuce, radishes, spinach, cucumbers and tomato smiles. The father prepares a tasty sauce for Red Snapper a la Veracruz or Huachinango a la Veracruz. The last stanza says: my parents say it is better when each one does their part for dinner
I grew up in a traditional Latino home where meal preparation was always done by my mother, often with assistance from my older sisters. My father did not participate in cooking. When he left, mother taught us to cook, clean house, do laundry, iron our clothing, change diapers, and fix baby bottles. She understood the importance of raising a family that cares for one another.
Our grief carries a lot of mystery with it. It may be connected to a specific loss or connected to other losses. What that feels like may be elusive, and we may find it easier to put it away in the corner of our lives, leave it, and close the door. However, these feelings haven’t disappeared and have a way of showing up.
We’re still connected to it, and fiction can bring it to the surface. James Baldwin said, “It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, or who had ever been alive.” These words demonstrate our deep connection to humanity — even when we feel most alone.
We may write a fictional story or poem and find that a specific character appears out of nowhere, experiences the loss of a loved one, and must grapple with many emotions. They may struggle and test the limits of their endurance, eventually seek help from others, and discover new strength for themselves, helping others in the process.
Some exceptional poems about grief include: “Making a Fist,” by Naomi Shihab Nye, “Nothing Gold Can Stay,” by Robert Frost, and “In Blackwater Woods” by Mary Oliver.
Our words matter, our feelings matter, and our healing matters. Writing fiction is another way to continue to honor the loss of loved ones and share it with others.
It should be noted that professional help to deal with grief is available through many sources.