Crafting Variety

Grief is Sneaky

SANYO DIGITAL CAMERAGrief sneaks up in unexpected moments. Yes, it’s full and present during the obvious times of shock, and wakes and funerals. Where it truly lives though is after the flowers have wilted and the food storage containers are back to their owners, and friends have stopped calling every single day to make sure you’re okay. It’s then, in those quiet moments, that grief settles in.

It’s not the loud, tear filled grief from before. It’s the quiet grip that shows up unexpectedly, while waking or running an errand, or reading a passage that hits just the right chord. In those moments grief wraps around your heart and lungs, where tears may only flow silently, where the pain is at its most real. For a moment it’s hard to think about continuing whatever task is laid out before you, because you can’t see anymore through the pain.

It does ease, that despair, that clutch of grief, because your loved ones that have gone on want to know you will move forward. They still support your dreams and goals and life even more from beyond the grave.

Honor them by living the life that they couldn’t, the one that was cut short for whatever reason. Live fully and love without reservation.

To honor your loved ones, to honor your grief, then simply live.

In memory of Tanya Shersnow and Mark Fisher.
Amy Dionne, 2015

Crafting Variety

Center of a Dark Mind

Wander through the caves
The recesses of a charred mind
Alcoves of mystery
Reveal heartache, pain, loss
Cobwebs hide the dark entrance
Clingy strands of memories
Stick to the heart
Brush off the strings
That won’t let go

Wander into the darkness
The inner soul of truth
Reflections of clarity
Show the tarnished center
Hidden confessions, weary secrets
Tied tight from the ropes of fear
Gray, lifeless heart
Raw and scarred
Fibers poking in soft flesh
A constant reminder

Wander into the fog of reality

Amy Dionne, 2014

Crafting Variety

Honoring Tanya

TanyaA year ago, I lost my best friend to cancer. I spent time leading up to, and directly after, in a state of shock trying to reconcile that at 35 I was losing someone outside of family that I was close to. In April last year my hubby and I traveled down to her memorial service. I don’t remember much of it besides the hole in my heart. I certainly have no idea what I stood up and said, having written down notes hastily in the car on the way down. Even having as much notice as I did, I waited until then to write down my thoughts. I didn’t want her death to be real. I still don’t.

I’ve been besieged by thoughts – I’m not going to say guilt because Tanya herself would smack me – that I did not do her justice when standing up and speaking for her. As a writer, I thought I could be more eloquent. As a friend, I thought I would be able to rise above my grief. In both, I crashed and burned.

Before all of you come forward to let me know that it was fine, I did fine, and that I don’t need to explain the turmoil I was in, let me say that I agree. But this was not about me; it was about someone I cared for deeply. It was about the one person that knew so much of my heart and soul that it was a bit scary.

I’m writing a year later to try and put into words the amazing person she was, and to offer tribute in a way that I couldn’t when wrapped up in grief. In typical fashion for me, I’m going to organize my observations. She would always laugh at me for my organization, and it became a joke between us. When we got together she’d always ask me what the schedule was, knowing I would have some rough outline of what we were going to do even if I tried not to. It was the same way with our writing – she would ramble and go down windy paths of description, and I would lovingly suggest an outline to keep her on track.

Tanya was:

A writer with heart.
She didn’t hold anything back. Every interaction in her stories and poems were heartfelt and didn’t pull any punches. She dove headlong into her story, getting wrapped up in her characters. She wrote poems so strong that they felt like a hurricane had swept through and picked up the chair you were reading in before turning it upside down.

Devoted to her husband and children.
No matter what I’ve gone through in dealing with Tanya’s death, I know that they have had it far worse than I. What I know however is that her fierce love for her family lives on. The few times I visited her home I saw evidence of how loving and kind she was, and devoted to her family’s well being. She encouraged her children to think independently and consider their options and choices. She listened and supported her husband. She kept going even when times were challenging.

An earth goddess.
Tanya lived on the shores of Lake Wyola for a reason. She loved being outdoors, planting flowers, and being barefoot. Her herbal business was a true testament to her love of the earth’s ability to connect. When she would visit me, she’d want to go sit outside first thing, or walk through the backyard and see what flowers were blooming.

A lover of dance and movement.
Tanya and I met in college, and danced together. She always leaned toward the improvisation classes, staying grounded to the earth. We often did contact improvisation together, and looking back on those moments makes me see just how much she felt the movement within her heart and body.

My best friend.
There were many people Tanya loved, many friends that she connected with. They all had special residence in her heart, and I am grateful to know just how many lives she touched.

May all of you know the love of a friend like that.Tanya and a favorite pass time

Crafting Variety

Writing for Tanya

My beautiful friend
My beautiful friend

My heart hurts today from the loss of my friend earlier this year. Tanya’s birthday is in a couple of days. She would have turned 36. I’m just lost thinking of all the birthdays she won’t have. I want it to spur me on to accomplish many of our common goals that she won’t be able to fulfill. Being published, becoming a writer full time, continuing our warrior women and earth connection goals. I know I’ll do those things we talked so much about, but it hurts to know she won’t be by my side.

There are so many things that remind me of her. I’ll see a picture of a lake, of a dancer, of a triskele, and my mind instantly says, oh, Tanya would love that! Then I remember she’s not there. So I create a little shrine to keep her close, post images on a special For Tanya Pinterest board that remind me of her, and put one word on the page after another, slowly building my stories. I know she wants me to keep writing. I can almost feel her soft touch on my shoulder and her voice saying “don’t think, just write”! So I do.

The story I’m currently writing is about angels, and while it has turned into a paranormal fantasy, it started because of an image of Tanya following the goddess to the Summerland. I’ve been hesitating to finish it, and I think I know why now. Because I miss her, and writing that story is a way to keep her with me a little while longer. Yet, I hear her voice. Don’t think, just write! Do it! I know she’s with me all the way. So I will heed her words and finish the story, which honors her. Then I will share it with the world.

For Tanya, and for myself.