by cheri block
In my earlier years of blogging, once I had a readership, I spent some time considering my audience. Would they be interested in a particular piece? Would it turn them off? Would they <worse> unsubscribe? Would I be relevant? Silly? Instructive? In the mix?
Now that I have been at it for awhile, those concerns no longer hamper me. Since I do not write for a living–and thus do not have to adhere to a prescribed style sheet or editor’s whim–and now only write for fussy professors or better yet, for my dorky junior high students, I really am free.
It is because of this freedom, I confess, I still plug away, thinking of the verbs I choose and the content I share.
This evening, I’d like to comment on losing a parent.
Those of you who are in your thirties/forties may not have experienced the loss of mother or father. But you will, and as Joe reminded me last month, don’t miss opportunities to connect with them because once they are gone, they are gone.
I say profound because well, I had no road map, no Virgil, no guide to show me what might happen and how my heart might ache.
But no one is ever ready.
Even if you are not close to your parent or your parent disappointed you or she didn’t live up to your expectations…losing a parent is profound.
Literature and cinema burst with such themes: the orphan crying over the dead parent, the lion cub crying over the dead lion king.
It’s all so surreal until it is your parent and he or she is no longer available to call or text or e-mail.
I know this sounds like an encounter group activity, but if your parent is still alive, send them an e-mail or call.
As Joe used to tell me, don’t miss an opportunity.