My mom was in the hospital quite a while before she died. I then had the task of packing up all the stuff in the house. It took me forever. I opened photo albums and had to look at all the pictures and try to remember that time. I read her writings and the letters I'd sent to her and she'd kept. I think I was pushing the unpleasant recent memories into the past, and trying to make the older, happy ones stronger.

My dad died suddenly when I was 17. I just remember knowing I only had to get through life for a while and things would eventually start to look brighter, but it didn't make that horrible time any easier to bear. My best friend gave me a paint-by-numbers set. I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to be insulted - we both did real oil painting. One day, I got the set out and started painting and realized how wise my friend had been. It kept my hands busy and my mind had to concentrate on the simple task of staying withing the lines and using the correct tiny pot of color. While I painted, my thoughts became calmer.

I wasn't avoiding thinking about my dad. That's all I COULD think about most of the time. The painting just interrupted that cycle of thought I felt trapped in. Maybe with you it's sewing, knitting, cleaning, learning a new tune, or anything else that's easy but still requires concentration.

Love,
Jeri