Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

Before the end of today, about 1,200 children in the U.S. will lose their parents. This translates to about 432,000 children annually. By the time most children turn 18, at least 1 in 13 of them would have lost a parent. My first death experience was as a teen through the loss of grandmother and I still vividly remember that day like it was yesterday. We woke up that morning, said good morning and even a little prayer and went to get ready for the day, just to be alerted that my grandmother seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness. I didn’t know what that meant but next thing I know, she was rushed to the hospital and shortly thereafter, pronounced dead. That day was the most strangest day of my life as I recall wondering over and over what they meant and why she wasn’t coming home. The air was filled with her scent. Her life seemed to be bustling every where though she was physically gone.

She was rushed to the hospital wearing a blue night dress that had flowers and ribbons in the front of it and they brought the dress home fron the hospital without her. Death truly takes your breath away.  Not only will it leave you speechless, but it can suck out the color from your life leaving you with little words to describe the experience.

I wrote Bloom almost like a gliding journey through this experience. What does it mean? What shall we do about death? What even remains? Bloom tries to answer these questions plus remind us that what we do with those memories of the people we love now gone, measure us. Our lives post death can still be full of colors, still be like seeds yet to realize their potential. But when they do, even the seeds would become earnest in devotion, illustrating once more how life still continues past death and I can’t imagine a better way to keep the memories of those we love alive than through the things they loved. Grab your copy of Bloom here.