Guest blogger: My New Overcoat

Happy to welcome guest blogger, Gary Toye, to the Writing the Heartache Blog today. Welcome here, Gary, and thank you for sharing from your heart.



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Not long ago, I got a new overcoat. It's very heavy. The fibers are dense, you can tell it's a quality garment, made to last a lifetime. The inside label says "Grief Brothers" It has the name of my youngest son embroidered on the inside pocket - below that, two important dates. April 17, 1987, the day he was born and October 10, 2014, the day he died.

This new overcoat is extra heavy, soaked with tears, so much so that it drips when I move. Sometimes I wonder how someone who feels so hollow can bear such weight. Yet, regardless of how unreal it seems, it is mine to bear. Every once in a while, I feel like a pocket or maybe the lapel may be drying out and my new overcoat may get a little lighter. Then a song comes on the radio, a commercial comes on the television or just a thought flashes across my mind. I put my hand in that pocket or brush that lapel and it's soaking wet all over again.

In one pocket there is a mask. Half mask really, from just the nose down. It has a smile on it. I put it on when I am getting out of my car to go into the store or in to my office. The mask smiles, but if you look at my eyes, you can see the pain. It's too fresh to hide completely. Most people, kind, well meaning, loving people, have moved beyond the terrible event that bought me my new overcoat. It's amazing how the world still goes on, spinning every day. Morning, Noon, Night . . . Repeat. A new workday starts, holidays come and go...time is very unkind to someone with a new overcoat. It selfishly keeps marching on, leaving me stuck in this place, yet somehow running to catch up. It's harder to run with all this extra weight, but fear of not keeping up with the world forces me move forward. Most days I'd rather stay in bed with the blankets over my head and leave my overcoat in the closet, unfortunately -- or fortunately, that’s not an option.

Friends and family ask "How are you?" and seem so relieved when I say "fine". Either they or I change the subject quickly so neither has to be uncomfortable. They give my arm a squeeze or a supportive pat on the shoulder. They quickly pull their hand away when they feel that soaking wet fabric not knowing what to say . . . where to wipe their hand. I wonder if they realize just how comforting that touch is or how much I appreciate them literally reaching through their own comfort zone to share it.

Over time, I'm told, my overcoat will dry out. Bit by bit, fiber by fiber, piece by piece. Oh there will be times a shower or thunderstorm will come along and get it wet again -- birthdays, anniversaries, his kids graduating high school or college. There will surely be more rain, but I look forward to the day when my new overcoat is mostly dry.

I'll wear it, you see, for the rest of my life. Taking it off is not an option. I paid way too much for it not to wear it. Money can't buy an overcoat like mine. Only true love can make a purchase so great. It is because of the love I have for my son, that I’ll wear this overcoat until the day they lay my own weary body down.

I look forward to the day I can hang it in the coat closet just outside Heaven’s door. I can’t wear it in. There’s a sign at the door… it reads “No Tears, Pain or Sorrow Allowed.” Hmmm, there are a lot of other coats in here . . . let me see if I can find a hanger . . .

By Gary Toye

How creating remembrance cards brought solace to me

Here's a piece I wrote that was published at the online site I often write for, Writing for Dollars. I hope it'll help those of you with sorrow to produce something meaningful in memory of your loved one.




Create Your Own Line of Cards!
Five Tips to Help You Sell

by Alice J. Wisler

Until I reach the New York Times Bestseller List and get to wallow in cash, I’ll be looking for ways to make extra money. While I have some new ventures going, I wanted to focus on one that has been true to me over the years—my own cards!

Yes, I’m talking about glossy colorful postcards you can mail to a friend, just like the kind you buy in stores.

The idea came to me when I was on my porch thinking about my young son who had recently died. He was only four. Will people remember him in five years? Suddenly, through the autumn leaves and night sky, this verse came to me: “Who will remember those who no longer sing on earth? We, who hear their songs from Heaven.” I liked the verse and wrote it down. Next, came the interest in putting the sentiment into a card. I had a friend who had a whole line of cards on her website and so asked her for some advice.

Coming up with a line of cards to sell both online and during events is a way to generate income as well as add to your creative outlet. Here are five tips for getting started, motivated, and selling.

First you need to come up with a passionate plan. In addition to what you are passionate about (horses, roses or fishing), consider the market out there and potential buyers. Will your cards hold only photos on the front or will you add a short sentiment? Will they be note cards or postcards? Will you sell them with envelopes?


Spend time creating at a card website. I found that Vistaprint—http://www.vistaprint.com—is a great printer to use, offering quality merchandise. They often have specials and their customer service is wonderful.

Don’t rush this process of creating the best card you can. Be sure to spell all your words correctly. Do you want to use the stock photos at the printer’s website or do you want to upload your own pictures? A woman I met at a craft fair where I was selling my novels and cards had a line of folded note cards, each one with a different photo she’d taken in Ireland. There were quaint village pictures as well as those of nature. If you are an avid photographer, think of offering a line of cards with your own photos. Come up with some encouraging verses or a short poem, too.


Order a small amount at first. Make sure the name of your company or your name and website are printed on the back side of the card. Once the cards arrive in your mailbox, check them over. Make any necessary changes for your future orders.


Put on your business hat and set up a website. If you already have a personal website, you could add a page for your cards as I did. Decide the price of your cards (charge enough to make a reasonable profit) and which methods of payment to accept. I used PayPal or ask that a check be sent to my post office box. Will you give a discount if customers order in bulk? Bereavement organizations across the country get discounts because they order two hundred or more cards at a time from me.


Advertise! No one will know about your product until you tell them. Spread the word to family, friends and others in your address book. Send out a “Just Released” email alert to all you know. Social media is a great way to share your cards with others. Promote every chance you get without over doing it and being downright obnoxious. Business cards with information about your card company, links, a phone number, etc. are handy to have, too. To promote business, give some cards away and attach ordering details. Once folks like your cards, they’ll pass the word along to others.

The sky’s the limit! Take your time to create a top-notch product, advertise it, and watch the orders come in!

© 2011 by Alice J. Wisler, reprinted from Writing for Dollars

Alice J. Wisler, author of the Southern novels Rain Song, How Sweet It Is, Hatteras Girl and A Wedding Invitation (Bethany House), lives and writes in Durham, NC. On sunny days, she places her decorative tri-fold poster board with pictures and information about her novels out by her mail box. Email her for more ways to build your sales at wisler@mindspring.com. Visit her website at http://www.alicewisler.com.

Too Much Life

Spring is a time of year when beauty abounds, especially here in the piedmont region of North Carolina. But I recall one spring when the delicate dogwood scraped against my heart, causing my delicate grief to ignite into anger.

Why?

Why were the dogwood, azaleas, and oak trees full of new life when my son was dead?
How could I bask in the lush aromas and vibrant colors when my heart had been ripped from my chest? Why couldn't the God of creation bend down and breathe life into my young Daniel's limbs, into his lungs?

I never got the answers.

Daniel's been gone from this earth for fourteen springs, and each spring brings me back to that first one, just six weeks after his death. Ironically, Daniel died on Groundhog Day, the very day those little critters are watched to see if their shadows are seen, to decide how much more winter is left and when spring will arrive.

Every spring I remember the agony of the first without him. That first one when I wanted to cover my head and eyes and shout, "This is too much life!" I'm grateful for time and for what I have done with the years so that the pain is not as fierce as it once was. Thanks to all the grief work I've done, I can enjoy the profound beauty of spring.

Yet it will never be as it once was. For now, my favorite parts of the season are seeing the purple wisteria hanging like scarves from the limbs of pine trees and the deep purple irises that bloom by my back door. The new leaves on the weeping willow planted in Daniel's memory are also signs I look for. These connect me to not only life, but to grief, loss and death. For none of these blooms last forever; spring must make way for summer and then fall, when leaves wither and die, new ones awaiting birth the following spring.

The Radio Show, Writing the Heartache: Honoring the Memory

Listen to today's Writing the Heartache Show to hear how parents honor the memory of their children.

Writing the Heartache: Honoring the Memory

Write with us!

August 21 is a significant date. It's the day that my son Daniel was due. He didn't arrive that day. He clung to the womb and waited another four days, pressing heavily against my sciatic nerve. When he was born on the 25th---a healthy nearly ten pound baby---all my pain went away. Joy and excitement filled my heart.

Four years later, the pain would be back---a different pain---consuming me both physically and emotionally. On February 2, 1997, Daniel left Earth for a journey to Heaven. His body had weakened due to a small blue cell tumor, and from all the treatments involved to rid his little body of it.

This year on the 21st, the second Writing the Heartache All Day Workshop will be held. I'm looking forward to welcoming all who join us to write through the funny memories as well as the painful ones. I anticipate hearing the stories of each participant as we write poetry, essays, letters, and learn how to cope with sorrow. We'll learn to write from mementoes and photographs. We'll see the value of journaling and writing for publication and advocacy.

Please head over to my website to read more about the day and to register for the course.

I hope to see you there!