Article by Phoebe Young from No Textbook

I never saw myself as a writer, in fact it was something that never felt on my radar, until it ended up being my saviour in my darkest times.

There is no textbook to life. There is no rule to follow, no given, no guarantee. 

Life is a whirlwind, to say the least. We experience insanely beautiful highs. We experience almighty, heavy, heart-aching lows. 

The meaning of life is something we search for, we look for. We seek it in others; we seek it in ourselves. We try hard to follow paths presented to us; to see what they may reveal to us at the end. Will it be an answer to our question? Will it be the divine conclusion of our purpose? We seek clarity in situations and seek help in circumstance. We burrow deep into the depths of our souls to discover the passion of love and experience feeling the emotion of love. We attain so much connection, good and bad; so much emotion, good and bad. We do this following no guide, following no textbook, only following one essential part of our being…. our heart.

I share this blog with the intent to reach others, to hold out a branch to anyone in pain, to hold out my hand to anyone seeking, to support anyone searching and to share love with anyone discovering.

In 2019 my world was turned upside down, my reality as I knew it became something completely alien to me. I lost my dad after a 3-year journey with cancer. My precious dad, my hero, my guardian, my protector, taken from me, completely out of my control, unable to change a thing.

Like I say, life has no textbook, I couldn’t have planned for this, I couldn’t have read a book of instructions to prepare me for this pain, this was something unknown to me, unfamiliar.

Being a mother with two small children, I struggled deeply to find space to grieve. This is the thing with grief, it demands space, it demands time, it doesn’t wait for you to be ready, it shows up, relentless, fearless, knocking you down like the powerful waves in a stormy ocean. Grief is not gentle, it’s not kind, it will take it’s space and there is no way of controlling that.

I began to write about my pain a few months after my dad’s passing, this like I said, was something I never saw myself doing, however, as soon as I began to type onto my keyboard, every feeling simply flowed. It was effortless, it felt freeing. I would sob and sob, tears streaming through every word written, but it was saving me more than I realised. It was giving me space to feel my grief, it was giving me a platform to feel seen in my struggle, it was releasing so much trauma that laid deep rooted in my system, writing truly saved me.

As time went on, I started to express more and more through words, letting every feeling and thought surrounding my grief be shared into a true expression. No holding back, the rawest declaration for how consuming grief can be. As I wrote I felt a pull to share all that my dad wished he could have shared. He always wanted to write a book, but sadly time ran out, so through my pain, tears and love I would share his story with the world. One filled with the gifts of life, even in the hardest moments, one fuelled by passion, zest, a fire for life. As my dad would say so often, the gifts of life surround us all, if we take the time to notice.

Grief is for life, the same as love, it never leaves us, but through sharing, expressing and moving my pain can feel a little lighter, I can see a little clearer and I know no matter how this journey looks, I will be ok. With my angel dad stood by my side at every waking moment, I am never alone, I needn’t be scared or run in fear of this darkness, I now see my own light, even in the hardest times and with that I know, I can do this.

I know this isn’t easy. I know that the life you desired to be living has not turned out to be quite as you planned. I know that some days even getting yourself out of bed to face the world is the hardest challenge of all.

I know that some days you silently cry alone, consumed by all that weighs you down. I know that your heart feels heavy. I know that you often feel lost. I know that you look in the mirror and you don’t even recognise the person staring back at you anymore. I know you are trying to be brave, trying to piece together the shattered parts of you.

It’s ok…. I know this is hard.

Please know that I see you in this struggle. I see you in the pain, the heaviness, the ache.

You’re already doing so well. You won’t feel lost forever, some days you’ll feel a little more whole, others not so much. But know you are brave enough to walk this path.

This path chosen for you is yours, you can fuel it with your beautiful light, I know you can.

You are strong enough to do this, you are brave enough to walk this, you are powerful enough to create this.

You are your own key, you are your own light, you are your own saviour.

Dig deep beautiful one.

 

 

A section from the book “The Gift” 

For my Dad, the gift of the story you never got to write.

“As I stand on the pure white sand, feeling the ground beneath me, I feel the souls of my feet covered by the grit of the sand. I hear the soft sound of the pure blue ocean, the sea hums a gentle song to me, a song that gives me comfort, I feel at home with it. I look out ahead a see all whom I love across crystal water. The laughter, the love they have between them all fills every space in my heart with utter joy. I look down to my feet and I see my Grandson, Leo, building his creation in the sand. He has a fire, a determination, anything is always possible for Leo and in his presence, anything is possible for me too. I feel the salty seawater around my ankles, the warmth of the sun on my skin. 

I look down to my body, a body I hardly recognise anymore as my own, I feel for my scars. The war wounds from my journey in life have faded. I feel my bones and they are no longer grasping on to any fat they can to nourish my body. I no longer feel the weakness. “I am strong.” I stand and breathe. I think to myself, “It’s ok, Simon”. I know that right now, in this moment, is exactly where I’m meant to be.

I take a deep breath. I feel the warmth in the air, the sun on my skin. I know in my heart that my journey in this life has come to an end. I didn’t want it to but I know it’s something I could no longer escape from. Almost 3 years of this painful, yet beautiful, journey have passed. I’m scared but somehow, I feel at peace. I have built a foundation of love, of strength, between myself and my family; something so incredible that, even in my absence, the love I’ve created will live on. My Grandson Leo always says to me, “Come on, grandpa. You can make it! “And those words have never seemed so clear to me, in this moment, I realise, I have made it- I am free. “