Sacred Sorrows introduces "Meags," our newest contributing writer. Meagen Winter resides in Arizona with her husband Paul and her dog Cooper. She's a teacher, an advocate for helping others to advocate for themselves, and a lover of all souls. Meagen is the mother of Maria, who went to heaven in May 2020; and her surviving children Nicholas, Andrew, Claire, and Katelyn.
Spring 2021 - just a few weeks shy of the one-year mark since my daughter's death, and I was still grasping - where do I begin to.... heal, feel, grow, forgive, breathe.
I started with my journal because that felt manageable. I was accustomed to the moods I'd gotten into over the years when I would start writing on Ash Wednesday but never make it to Good Friday. I have about ten of those journals. So I rummaged through my colored pens and pencils, and I began:
May I have peace.
May I have peace.
May I have peace.
I wrote this 10 times in my best handwriting. And then I continue:
May I have peace.
Suddenly the real words came pouring out:
My blood rushes and I feel heat come to the surface. It is at these moments that I don't feel peace. I feel Guilt and What ifs... and I find myself lingering in that heat, in those feelings. They try to haunt me.
But I push through, and I shove Guilt, and I punch What If, and I go back to my journal:
May I have peace.
May I have peace.
May I have peace.
At times I wonder if there is a shell that has to crack, ooze, spill, and sputter before I can feel peace.
Maybe.
In the meantime, I've made it past two Good Fridays, and I'm still writing.
Go away What ifs... Leave now Guilt. No room at the inn.
Make way for Peace.
May I have peace.