“Time doesn’t heal.”

I decided to write a blog to share how I make literary sense of things. It is something I have always done privately, but recently more publicly, thanks to Facebook and graduate school. In the past two years, I have read over sixty books and have just completed 145pgs. of my first manuscript. In June of this year, I will complete my requirements to earn my MFA in Creative Nonfiction. In the process of all this reading and writing, I realized that over time, the process has helped to create a salve over a lot of my wounds self-afflicted and otherwise, regarding the loss of my daughter, Divine. Most who know me know that my middle child died at age four from a brain tumor.  On  February 21 of 2012,  ten years had passed. Yet,  I agree with Ann Hood, author, of Comfort when she writes, “Time doesn’t heal.”  Time  nor words can ever heal my heart or resolve my desire to hold my daughter in my arms or marvel at the beautiful young woman she would have become.  Yet, time and words have allowed me to see how it is possible to move on and work to become the best version of myself. Ten years has allowed me to  fully see her legacy in my life and has allowed me to participate in the lives of my other two children who I marvel at each day.  Time can do this.  And the words that I have written about Divine can keep her memory alive and let other people who never met her wish they had.  On the pages of my book, we are together again.  We can both live beyond the time given us on the page. Literature can do this.