I am doubting everything today. I am especially doubting my writing. There is an insecurity that comes with grief. It moves in slowly and speaks subtly to the voice of reason. It challenges my abilities, trying to convince me that life is at a stand still; and I have little to contribute.
I write to help myself and maybe by chance to help someone else. But, I have frequent reservations that my dark writing is at all helpful. I savor the emails from those who have written to me about how our lives have connected or how their life has changed. It offers me strength. But, do I deserve to ride on that strength?
I am not questioning because I don’t want to share what is happening inside of me, but because I feel a wave of depression starting to wash over my writings. Each day seems sadder than the next. I am despondent this morning. My thoughts are so heavy.
Jordan woke up early and tired. He crawled into my bed again asking for Daddy; crying, “Where daddy go?” This new morning “search” is becoming a routine; maybe a ritual. Displeased with any of my answers, Jordan continued crying. In desperation to redirect his emotions, I brought him to the living room to look at photos of dad. He was delighted with each one. When I pointed to a photo of Shawn on a fishing boat, holding a walleye, Jordan proudly announced that daddy had caught a dolphin! In true little boy fashion, he was so proud of his daddy. A daddy can do anything. A daddy can even catch a dolphin. But, how do I explain to that same little boy that some daddies die?
At breakfast time Jordan started a prayer by himself. I had skipped the prayer as an oversight, my mind filled with anxiousness, weariness and lack of concentration. Jordan crossed his arms and then his hands and prayed, “Bless the Lord. Daddy. Mommy. Daddy. Amen.” It was the best prayer I have ever experienced. Clear, comforting and completely fitting. It was larger than life. Perhaps I will call it my “Dolphin Prayer”. It was the prayer that rescued me for the day from drowning in my waves of doubt. The prayer that washed over me and comforted my heart. The prayer that splashed joy into my morning, reminding me that in the midst of constant uncertainty, I am able to make a difference to my little boy and little girl. This is a worthwhile contribution; a worthwhile purpose; a reason to keep writing.
