When busy = Avoidance
And how teaching always manages to bring me back
It’s been a while since I’ve posted a newsletter. I’ve started a few. Even have one in the works that I’ll be sharing soon, but I’ve been so busy with teaching and life. I realized this weekend that what I’d really been doing is trying in vain to avoid thinking about what December 18th marked: the one year anniversary of the murder of my nephew Justin, my brother’s only child.
I’ve had a lot of loss in my life and I think I’ve fooled myself into believing that this has prepared me for grief when it comes at me with the strength of a thousand tornadoes.
Lesson: nothing can prepare you for a grief this deep. Nothing.
Justin had just turned 30 years old. He was handsome, had a gorgeous smile, was kind and respectful. He lived for his daughter and wanted to get his life together for both himself and her. He had his whole life ahead of him…
Justin was my first child—when my brother got locked up my first year of college when Justin was just one, I took my brother’s place, picking Justin up weekends to take him to museums and parks. I can still see him running down the hall of the 9th floor of Columbia University’s John Jay Hall, his giggles ricocheted off the walls. He loved the attention lavished on him. When he grew older, I talked to him about his future, told him he could do anything. The last time I spoke to him he told me he wanted to write a book and asked if I’d help.
He also finally confessed, eight years after his father died: “You were right titi, I should have gone to see my dad when you called me. I’ve always regretted that. I’m sorry.” I held him as he cried remembering how my brother cried for his son as he lay on his death bed. They’re together now on the other side. Justin Andrew and Juan Carlos, two of my greatest loves.
Teaching keeps me busy, yes. It also reminds me of what’s important. It keeps me close to writers whose enthusiasm inspires me, who ask great questions and dream big. Teaching reminds me each and every time that this is the work I am meant to do in the world, so even when losses like this paralyze me and make me ache, teaching can bring me back to myself and the work I hold so dear, if only for the duration of the class.
After my nephew died, I got off social media and took a break from teaching for a few months. I needed the space to breathe and cry and rage and ask god, the spirits, the wood nymphs and naiads: why why WHY? What I remembered in the silence was my nephew’s face the last time I saw him, when he told me: “Titi, I wanna write a book.” I was shocked. He’d never expressed any interest in writing, though he liked to ask me questions about my stories and why it is I write about my life.
I smiled at him and asked: “What do you want to write a book about?”
His face lit up as he shared his idea. Then he looked away and back at me, a sheepish look on his face. “Will you help me, titi?” Of course I said yes.
My nephew will never get to write that book, and this still breaks my heart. But in the quiet of the first few months of the year, I remembered that I could help others write their stories in the same way I would have helped my nephew. That’s when I created the Writing for the Seasons Series where I offer a theme-based, generative writing class on the first day of the seasons: the Vernal Equinox on March 2oth, the Summer Solstice on June 21st, the Fall Equinox on September 22, and the Winter Solstice on December 21st.
The last class of the series is scheduled for Wednesday, December 21st 7-9pm ET, the first day of winter in the northern hemisphere. The theme is LIGHT, because while the day is the shortest day of the year, from that day forward, the days start to get progressively longer. For me this means that this day marks the beginning of the return of the light…hence the theme: LIGHT!
Truth is, I think we could all use some more light in our lives right now.
Writing for the Seasons: The Winter Solstice Edition
When: December 21st, 7-9pm ET
Where: Online via Zoom
How much: Suggested donation is $30 but you can pay more, if you can and want to
To register: email me at writingourlivesworkshop@gmail.com
I’ll be teaching one more class this month through Writing Our Lives before I take some time off at the beginning of the year, to be with myself and my stories.
When: December 29th, 7-9pm ET
Where: Online via Zoom
How much: $33
To register: email me at writingourlivesworkshop@gmail.com
I created this class because so many people have asked me how I created this writing life for myself; how have I done it my way? One of the things I swear by and have been doing for years is: setting writing intentions.
In this two-hour class, I’ll guide you through the process of setting writing intentions for yourself.
I hope to see you before I go dark for a few weeks in 2023.
I’ll be publishing an end of year essay in this newsletter in the coming days so don’t fret, I’m not gone just yet…
In the meantime, I hope this season is a good one for you.