The “Writing for Wellness” class was off-putting to me, sounded too Kumbaya for my taste. But I’d taken every college literature class under the sun, along with sociology and psychology. I was infatuated by the idea of a writing class, and that New-Agey one was the only summer class offered. Fine, I thought.
At least I was back in college and my model identity was balanced with that of “student.” I loved indulging my curiosity and connecting the dots. That substantive feeling of knowledge. Learning was a way to empower myself, it was something I could control. And writing seemed like a means to define myself instead of letting others do so.
Rica, the teacher, a lovely woman in flowing skirts and a pixie cut, nudged us to tell our stories. Our summer project was to write about the thing we most needed to heal. I assumed that for me it was the Step’s childhood damage, but writing exercises uncovered a different wound.
It was a relief to find that I didn’t have to dredge up my childhood, and a little surprising that I needed to write about the loss of my mother. I’d hoped that I’d processed it in all those bereavement meetings, marital hopes, and cheesecake binges. Not to mention the antidepressants, grieving books, and vortex gods of Sedona.
But my grief over her was still volcanic. For weeks I sobbed while writing the story of us, about our relationship and her early death. The story of the quirky, broken gem of my mom became a love letter to her.
I was writing from the gut, giddy to see the words flowing onto the page. Rica nurtured my confidence in my ability. Her tender assurances cemented my newfound purpose as a writer.
I was so grateful to Rica. That thing that lived inside me, that wanted a voice? She helped me believe in it. She taught with love; she made an art of connecting the project to the person. She championed me, mothered me, and kindled my passion in the span of a season.
Rica, you made all the difference and encouraged me to dream. I no longer believed that love was the measure of loss. It was the measure of grace.
