Grief- the Creative Void

​Grief leaves behind a creative void.
It was a long time that I was able to write again. I could paint, but writing seemed somehow more painful. A close death can take away so much energy, your creative energy, and leave a sense of nothingness in it’s wake. Grief tends to demand inner attention that doesn’t allow the outer peripheral to penetrate for awhile. Time passes, and you realize that those two fields seem to merge, the inner and the outer once again. One finds that the sharing of stories initially too emotional to tell, you now laugh over the memory rather than cry. It’s a process...a very individual process. 
My mother-in-law died. My sorrow may be shocking for some, who have within their circle a stereotypical “mother-in-law”, but for me, it was a large loss. She was a very energetic, "bull in a china shop" kinda personality that was never far from laughter. 
I paint often thinking of her, not that she loved my art, in fact, she wasn’t overly fond of my abstracts at all. I clearly remember her puzzled stare at my easel, some recent work and simply stated,  “don’t you ever paint anything pretty?” It was after that moment that I painted her some hydrangeas, just to show her I could. However differing our taste, she was proud and took any opportunity to show off her family’s and my achievements with great flourish. I remember when she was shown a newpaper article about a recent art show. She burst with pride (although she still didn't like the work much).
She brought into our lives, a huge love of life that permeated every corner and crevice. My mother-in-law was a force, short as she was rounded, large hearted and a stubbornly determined soul that forged ahead into every project or idea that circulated in her head (which very often meant dragging you for the ride should you be there at that particular moment) It was always a good time! I miss that.