Healing

my grandfather's desk

I am finishing up the fourteenth chapter of my book in process.

When Amy died in September I found myself at a loss for words. It wasn’t writers block, it just hurt to remember. When I married Amy I made her my true north. I thought all of the adventures were just steps that led me into her arms. Without her I questioned everything. Lost with a broken compass. 

On Monday night I worked with adults getting started on the guitar, while all around me kids were teaching each other ukulele and a young boy learned the basic frailing strum faster than anybody we have ever encountered.

The young banjo student doesn’t have a banjo. His dad is serving in the Navy right now. On the ride home my father and I talked about helping the young man get a banjo of his own. We laughed over some of the trouble I got into when I was the same age, and for the first time in a while the memories did not hurt quite as bad.

I am never going to get over Amy. The good and the bad, the bitter and the sweet, are carved in me all the way down to the bone. I will, however, find a way to keep working. To use the good and the hurt and transform it into words and music as I have always done.

I will have Chapter Fourteen up for our Patreon sponsors soon. Thank you all for your patience.

God bless,
-Patrick