{"id":6667,"date":"2022-03-07T10:25:06","date_gmt":"2022-03-07T15:25:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/?p=6667"},"modified":"2022-03-07T10:27:29","modified_gmt":"2022-03-07T15:27:29","slug":"grief-exposed-giving-voice-to-the-unspeakable","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/grief-exposed-giving-voice-to-the-unspeakable\/","title":{"rendered":"Grief Exposed – Giving Voice to the Unspeakable"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>
\n

By Mike Sollom<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

In those dreadful days and nights as Mike collided with the morbid memories of his son\u2019s suffering and death\u2014and the unbearable ache of Jim\u2019s absence\u2014he needed a way to describe the anguish of his heart. So, he found a spiral-bound notebook and wrote. And wrote and wrote and wrote.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mike believed if he could find the right words\u2014give a voice to the unspeakable\u2014he might also find a way to endure the pain. If he could expose those words of grief to the light, it might make the whole thing bearable. Many of his words were dark and raw and angry and did little more than chronicle ten interminable years of wrestling and railing. But many revealed islands of hope and yes, rays of light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Through the generous encouragement of friends, Mike came to wonder if those words of light, which he discovered in the darkest of nights, might also help others endure the unbearable realities of their pain and loss. Could they give voice to someone else\u2019s grief? If so, then they couldn\u2019t remain buried in a stack of spiral-bound notebooks.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Before You Begin<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

What you are about to read is an honest description of what it was like for me to grieve. It\u2019s a personal confession of what deep loss can do to the human soul\u2014what it did to my soul. It\u2019s not a prescription for how I think you<\/em> should endure the grief and loss in your<\/em> life. It\u2019s a description of how I\u2019m<\/em> trying to endure mine<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Everything was written in \u201creal time\u201d over the course of ten years. Whatever I was thinking at any given moment, I wrote down. I have not attempted to rearrange my writing into chronological order or reconstruct it according to themes or topics. I have flashed back and forth in time but done so without warning. I have, in fact, done very little to assist you or guide you as you read. I don\u2019t apologize for that. Grief and loss are not linear, nor do they adhere to logic. They are inconsistent, unpredictable, and messy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The words that follow were not written to be read. I did not intend that anyone would see the squalls and scribbles that boiled up from the emptiness in my soul. As I sat in dimly lit booths in random coffee shops or wrestled through sleepless nights in my own home, my only intention was to rage against my loss and release the raw emotions of my grief. In the end, I didn\u2019t write what might be true for everyone. I wrote what was true for me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I began writing in a blog to inform loved ones of the ups and downs of my son, Jim\u2019s, battle against cancer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jim did not survive.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After he died, my words turned rough and raw, and I could not hide the honesty of my baffled and broken heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stopped writing that blog, but I continued to write in a journal. What you hold in your hands are excerpts from that journal. It\u2019s what happened after Jim died. Those blog entries were the chronicles of a warrior son\u2014my son. This journal is the journey of a wounded father\u2014my journey.<\/p>\n\n\n