My mother has been gone for more than twenty years; yet, I miss her every day, even now. When the grief of her passing was new and I felt wounded and sore, I sought and found comfort in words: the words of friends, words in the Bible and other books. I found relief from pain in poetry, in quotes, and in Scripture that seemed to speak to me.
Like a warm quilt on a cold night, I pulled the words around me, wrapped myself in them, and found balm for my heart. I wanted to keep these words close and add to them. I wanted them at my fingertips, to read and re-read so I bought a small (but thick) journal. Just the act of copying meaningful prose and poetry was calming. On some of the pages, I drew illustrations, using colored pencils. There is something soothing about the slow process of creating a colorful picture. 
As the years passed, that little journal grew to include, not only comforting words but amusing quotes and poems. Maybe, some day, my children or grandchildren will pick up that journal when they need relief from whatever pain they are going through; or, maybe they will open it if they are curious about what might be inside. Perhaps they’ll begin journals of their own. I hope so. Sort of like the cool touch of a mother’s hand on a child’s fevered brow, there is comfort in the wonderful gift of words.
Love your paintings-so cute! AND your verse!
Thank you, Carolyn.
Blanche, your words were exactly what I needed to read. It is a month since my dearest brother died. Sunday’s are particularly hard, we always chatted on Sundays, I still hear his laugh, his voice. I read something and think, ‘I’ll clip that out for Ian.’ Where ever I was living in this big old world, we wrote, phoned each other, and if I could get a long lay-over at Heathrow airport, London when on a business trip, we would arrange to meet. I love the idea of your journal, Blanche, I shall create one for myself. I do keep a ‘clipping’ file of articles/poems/Bible verses etc. all I need is a big fat journal.
Josephine, thank you for writing. I’ve been thinking about you and hoping you are OK. It is hard to part from those we love. I understand about Sundays. Weekends seem to be roughest. Maybe it’s because when we are not working as we are throughout the week, sadness catches up with us. Let me know about your journal and if you find joy and solace in it.
Thank you, Blanche. It is the little moments that tug the heart strings. Dad had a stroke that paralyzed his left side. When he visited me in my little English cottage we walked a brick pathway to a garden seat. One brick was uneven, he would smile when I said, every time, ‘careful, Dad, don’t trip over the brick’. After Dad died it brought tears to my eyes when I walked the pathway alone. When I visited with Mum and Dad, he always said, as I left the house, ‘Careful when you cross the road’. One day I know I will remember Ian’s catchphrases and smile…but not just yet.
You’re right, Josephine, it’s the little things.I’m sad with you. Ian, I’m sure, was a wonderful person.