Navigating Loss Through Writing

Writing is a powerful tool in navigating loss and grief. Read Kathleen Templeton's Grief Story, 'It's Never Too Late to Grieve' about the healing power of writing when processing grief later in life

Welcome to the Grief Stories community! I hope you’ll find this to be a welcoming place where you’ll be able to share experiences, get things off your chest, support one another, ask questions, and chat to people who truly ‘get it’.  I invite you to read and share stories of hope and healing; giving a voice to loss and grief. This is a safe place helping us to feel less alone on our journey and providing comfort in hard times.

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Loss and trauma can take their toll on our health and well-being. In the aftermath of my traumatic event, I have had to deal with both physical and mental injuries. Writing has helped me enormously in my recovery, and it is something I have been recommending to others since I embarked on my healing journey.

I've also found writing to be one of the most powerful healing tools in my grief. Although it hasn’t always been pain-free, I wrote several letters and messages to my mum in heaven. For some people it may seem absurd to write a letter to someone who passed away, to others, it may be just the perfect way to document their grief. It’s not that I expect an answer or that I would even send them. But writing helped me connect to my mum who can’t be with us any longer. Writing is powerful in the way that it assists us in gaining control of our own story and witnessing our grief.

I've found writing to be one of the most powerful healing tools in my grief.

I used to call my mum at least once a week, usually at the weekend, and I still miss our calls so much. It felt so empty after she passed away. Suddenly I didn’t have anyone who I could call on the weekends. How would I spend my weekends? It was a part of my weekly routine that was no longer there. So writing a letter to my mum in heaven is a kind of substitute for the weekend calls. And whilst for many years I would be too overwhelmed to write a letter to my mum in heaven, especially on the anniversary of her death, with the years that have passed I can now even smile whilst writing to her.

And I’ve learnt that I’m not alone in using writing for healing. Maybe you wrote a letter or message to your loved one in heaven as well. It is also something that was recommended to Kathleen by her therapist. And today I’m sharing her grief story.

Have you ever written a letter or a message to your loved one in heaven?

Today in the Grief Stories Kathleen Templeton is sharing her grief story about the importance of processing our grief and how writing can help us with it.

Kathleen’s mother, Jean, died when Kathleen was still a child, but she was never provided with the space to grieve the loss of her mother until later in her life. This became the base for her book ‘Jar of Tears: Moms aren’t supposed to die’, where through her story she addresses the importance of facing grief rather than ignoring and suppressing it.

I am so grateful to Kathleen for sharing her grief story and her honesty and vulnerability. I hope Kathleen’s grief story will provide hope and empowerment in your grief journey and help your healing. Let us know what you found meaningful in the comments.

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'It's Never Too Late to Grieve' by Kathleen Templeton

Grief Stories #007

It was eight days before Christmas. My little sister and I were already counting the days until Christmas morning. It was a different holiday season this particular year because my mother was in the hospital and my great aunt was looking after us. She’d been sick for a few days but as a nine-year-old girl, I’d noticed every other time she got sick, she got better.

My great-aunt told me that doctors had agreed to let us visit her on the upcoming Saturday, which was two days away. Suddenly Christmas seemed less important. I had missed her terribly. Thursday night I lay in bed and cried, thinking there was a possibility she could die.

The next morning, bright and early, my father knocked on our back door. He was supposed to be on his honeymoon with his new wife but appeared tanned and worried. He told us that our dear mother had died. But seeing her was only two sleeps away!

Within an hour of hearing that our mother had died, we packed up a few items and were in his car, on the way to his home with his new wife.

As a brand new wife, she was not pleased to be an instant stepmother to two grieving girls. It was a rough transition.

We learned to call her “mom” at her insistence. She had told us she’d begun to hate the sound of her name, we said it so often. Although we didn’t really want to call her mom, we relented.

For Mother’s Day that year, we made her cards at school and presented them to her. My dad made a special effort to acknowledge her new role with gifts, as well.

But that night, I lay in bed and my heart ached for my own, real Mother. I wept and then sobbed. The reality of her not returning was slowly becoming real to me. It was devastating. I never understood the severity of her illness as everyone kept reassuring me that she’d be okay. I never had a chance to say goodbye to her.

My stepmother came in to see why I was crying and I told her I missed ‘my mom’. I reached my arms out for a hug, expecting a hug, but she folded her arms over her chest, turned on her heel, and called for my dad to come see me. I was shocked. In that moment, I learned my grief was not welcome and not accepted, perhaps even something to be ashamed of.

The losses continued. My stepmother ordered pictures of my mother to be taken down off my dresser and put away because they made her “uncomfortable”. I obliged. I am a thoughtful person and didn’t want anyone to be upset. I didn’t understand that perhaps my right to grieve was more important than an adult’s right to be uncomfortable at the picture of a deceased ex-spouse. Soon, my little sister and I learned to only discuss my mother out of earshot of my stepmother, her name became shameful.

Thirty-one years later, I was a member of a wonderful church, was married, and had two beautiful daughters. I had struggled with some family dynamics in my family of origin and sought a Christian therapist for help in navigating them in a God-honouring way. The astute therapist noticed through our discussion that my grief was not complete and needed attention.

Didn’t she know that grief was something I tried to suppress, ignore and resist? It made others much more comfortable when I didn’t bring up my poor dead mother. The therapist insisted that live feelings cannot stay buried, as hard as I try. She informed me that until I was comfortable staying in the pain of my grief, it would always linger in a dysfunctional way.

“How do I process my grief?” I asked her in shock.

“Start by writing your mother a letter,” was her simple reply. “Start there.”

I didn’t know whether to write a goodbye letter to my mom or an update letter, ‘this is what my life looks like since you died’ letter. That night, I sat at my computer and typed in “Dear Mom” and wept. I could not write a single letter more.

Each time I tried, I wrote a little more, it became a goodbye letter. It wasn’t long, but it triggered the necessary tears and introspection. When I had done enough crying, I thought about all the grieving people who would never have access to a good therapist like I had. I thought about all the children who suppressed their grief to satisfy the adults in their lives.

I knew I had to do something to help my inner child and other children who grieve. I had to share this wisdom about embracing the pain of grief instead of trying to ignore it.

I know people learn and remember stories better than explanations, so I set out to write a story that teaches people to face grief head-on rather than ignore it. When the pandemic shut everything down, I sat down and wrote Jar of Tears: Moms aren’t supposed to die.

In writing this story, I had to think about the kinds of things that would have made me feel comforted or a little better, and I wrote that. I had so many unsaid things when my mom died and predict many others have the same feelings, so I wrote that into the storyline as well. Writing this story was therapeutic for my grief journey. My grief will always be present, but I think of her with more love and gratitude in my heart than pain.

I have heard great feedback from adults that my story has helped reframe grief for them, which is one of the greatest compliments I could receive.

Grief Story by Kathleen Templeton

Friend, what is helping you to navigate grief and process your feelings? Have you ever written a letter to your loved ones in heaven? Maybe you’ve always kept a journal, and writing has been part of your life for as long as you care to remember, or perhaps you’re even working on a book. Maybe you are entirely new to writing or a little hesitant to use writing as a tool for healing. But what do you have to lose by giving it a try? Share in the comments.

Through losing her mother at a young age, Kathleen Templeton learned some important things about grief. She shares this in her first book, Jar of Tears, a middle-grade novel about grief, grieving, and faith. 'Jar of Tears: Moms aren’t supposed to die', is available in paperback, eBook, and audiobook.

Kathleen lives with her husband and daughters in Calgary, Alberta. She holds a BA from the University of Alberta, a BEd from Concordia University College of Alberta, and a Creative Writing Certificate from the University of Calgary. Her mission is encouraging young people to tackle hard things with inspiring literature. When she's not writing or reading, she's substitute teaching or boring her family with genealogical facts about her family tree, probably wearing plaid. 

You can find more about Kathleen and her work on her website kathleentempleton.com or connect with her on Facebook or Instagram.