Grieving in the creative process
(Nov, 2024)
Each of us three kids spoke at my Dad’s funeral. My eldest sister spoke with such wonderful grace, you could see him beaming at her down from the sky. My middle sister, never one to consider herself a wordsmith, wrote a beautiful poem that has just brought me to tears as I’ve dug it out. I won’t read it for another while now as it’s too overwhelming, but it captures much of the love and nostalgia that is driving an idea I’ve been wrestling with for years, and more profoundly in last weeks.
The idea somewhat came to life with Dad before he passed but a little too late. Now some years on, with time, it is now taking shape again. And so, for some weeks now, I have been accelerating and diving deep – what is this thing? what am I trying to do? who is it for? It has become quite an obsession such is my character.
But writing this just now and digging out this poem has allowed me to release the cognitive build-up and connect with it on an emotional level.
I had thought it was a podcast; capturing life stories, connecting fathers and sons over conversations they might not otherwise have, but there is a tension that I can’t iron out. Listening and fleshing out those stories for families is different to crafting recordings into an abbreviated narrative for a wider audience. Maybe later down the line I can find a way. I do feel there is so much wisdom and richness in what I’m hearing from Dads that I want more people to hear. And we know men struggle to share their feelings and emotions. Organizations like CALM do great work to combat this. But that is not my battle right now, so the podcast is taking a back seat.
On reading my sister’s poem again, I’ve come to the realization that there is a deep motivation here to help others to avoid the same fate. Equipping them with that dedicated life story and the answers to the questions they will wish they asked, or did but forgot the answer is what this is about. And not only that but the process of crafting the idea and speaking to dads and sons is helping me grieve three years on.
I came across this Zen Buddhist concept recently that talks about nature, mother earth, our parents and ancestors living on in us, that we are made of them. We are them. We are inextricably connected on a cellular level, we “inter-are.” And it’s well documented that trauma lives in between generations culturally, socially and even physiologically. So, through this project, I’m beginning to realize that while his living body may not be on this earth any longer, Dad is nevertheless being manifested in this world, he is indeed living on…through this. If he wasn’t living on in me, I would not be doing this, and the families I’ve spoken with would not have a timeless recorded memory in their hands as I write this. With this, they will have his voice, his laugh. Because, they don’t know this yet, it will fade.
It might seem strange to say – Hi Linkedin ex-colleague, I had an idea, I thought it was a podcast, I realized I was grieving, so now it’s first and foremost a business – but hey, I’ll guess I’ll be strange.
And you may also be thinking – why is he guffing on about all this anyway? OK I’ll be strange again. But you’ve made it this far, without checking your email, so there has been something in it. 😉
But here’s why:
I’m writing this down to force me to understand the vision of a project, and to articulate the essence of this idea…which has helped me come to the realization that I had been holding off it being a business as I thought that it would undermine the integrity of the work, but in fact it does the opposite…the idea is about capturing a dad’s life, his insights and his legacy…and the best way I can do that for more people is to offer it as a paid service, not a podcast. The pilot families attest to its value.
I could keep this to myself, but why not share it?
You might feel something today because of it. And we spend too many days without feeling.
You might decide you’re up for it.
You might share it with a friend.
And if it’s one of the last three, then I’d say that’s worth risking over-sharing for.
**
If only I had Known
If I had known it was our final dance; I would have chosen an endless song.
If I had known it was our final hug; I would have held you for so long.
If I have had known it was our final meal; I would have ordered a P.U ding ding I.N. ging ging.
If I had known it was our last fishing trip; I would have joined you and that moray eel, snorkelling.
If I had known it was the last joke you would tell; I would have laughed harder and not rolled my eyes.
If I had known it was our last gaze out to sea; I would have taken your hand in mine and sighed a bigger sigh.
If I had known it was our final beachfront stroll; I would have insisted on several extra loops.
If I had known it was our last ice cream; I would have ordered us extra scoops.
If I had known it was the last cheeky wink and smile; I would have captured it on video as my very own keepsake.
If I had known it was our last mocha; I would have ordered you a slice of double chocolate cake.
If I had known it was our last holiday; I would have poured out extra drinks.
If I had known I would lose you before you went; I would have asked more 'what do you think's
And as I whisper my last I love you and wipe away my tears,
I will bask in the knowledge that I had so many 'if only I had knowns' throughout our forty something years.
Emma. March 22, 2021