After I was 10, I believed in faeries. And I didn’t simply consider in them, I lived and breathed them. I owned each Spiderwick Chronicles e book, the sector guides and extra. I used to be ready for the faerie uprisings destined to happen, I talked to the flowers in my neighbor’s yard as a result of I knew they had been really pixies disguised as flowers. I believed in them so fiercely, as a result of they got here from my very past love: books. And I trusted them with my life.
My perception within the faerie world did ultimately get squashed by sixth grade boys with unhealthy attitudes, and though it devastated my mother to see me getting old out of my childhood ardour, I bought over the loss fairly shortly. I dove into extra real looking tales as an alternative, studying about love and coming of age and delightful, idealized folks.
Honestly, I owe it to my dad and mom for being massive readers and for feeding into my e book dependancy. I’ve at all times been a romantic; my entire life I’ve discovered my sense of self between the pages of books. Each story I wrote (circa 2008: a misunderstood lady has to battle the evil faeries to get her long-lost father again), regardless of totally different circumstances (circa 2009: a fifth grader’s knock-off of A Collection of Unlucky Occasions, minus the Unlucky Occasions, since I’m a romantic), had a woman lots like me: desirous to discover a objective, a ardour, and love.
And at the least subconsciously, I knew my life would come into fruition as I aged and I discovered consolation in not worrying an excessive amount of about what my life would seem like, simply that it will all work out the way in which it’s purported to. I bought that lesson from books, too. And regardless of every part my books taught me (empathy, braveness, non-conformity, compassion, and so forth.), they’ll solely put together you a lot.
When my dad died two years in the past, I didn’t learn a factor. Studying for me is both indulgent or confrontational, and I didn’t really feel like I may do both of these issues. Grief is a humorous factor as a result of I’ve learn so many books about it, however by no means as soon as thought it will occur to me. And even funnier than that’s I immediately couldn’t bear in mind something these books could have taught me about grief, and as an alternative I stared blankly on the ceiling or watched TV sitcom reruns till my mind turned to mush. It was the primary time I felt like my books hadn’t dutifully put together me for one thing.
It took me some time, however I did ultimately begin studying once more, as life appears to at all times carry me again to books once I desperately want them. And at first, I solely learn books that weren’t remotely near what was taking place in my very own life. However then these particular books, these magical, mystical, life-altering gems began slipping into my life and altering the way in which I checked out myself, and significantly my grief.
It began with We Are Okay by Nina Lacour. I’m barely biased, as a result of I’ve at all times beloved and admired Nina’s writing, however this e book (and its stunning cowl) planted itself in my life and I learn it in a single sitting. Though the way in which the primary character handles her grief was totally different than mine, her ache felt like mine, and the inevitability of all of it felt so acquainted it made me really feel seen. It was the primary grief associated e book I picked up after my dad’s passing, and it opened up a flood gate of emotional handlings I didn’t know I wanted. I maintain that e book on full show in my front room, as a mild reminder that we actually are, okay.
After which, The Scent Of Different Folks’s Homes by Bonnie-Sue Hitchcock. This e book took my coronary heart in its fingers and cradled it. It checked out how damaged I used to be and kissed me on the brow. This e book grabbed my fragile coronary heart by the shoulders and stated, “life sucks but it surely’s additionally stunning.” And that was sufficient, and I spotted that’s all I had wanted from one thing, was to inform me how messy and darkish and scary life can get, however one way or the other it’s nonetheless stunning.
What I’m getting at is that this: Books, one way or the other, within the midst of my very own undoing, jogged my memory why I believed in faeries simply 10 years earlier than; as a result of they made me really feel just like the world is a lot greater than it’s. And never simply that, however that I, in my seemingly restricted life, may discover magic.
I’m nonetheless determining my grieving course of. There are months the place I do know I’m not coping the way in which I ought to, however studying is an incredible, emotional rollercoaster, and in avoiding it I’m making it clear to myself that I do know that no matter literary journey I’d partake on would train me one thing I’m stubbornly making an attempt to keep away from. I’ll not nonetheless consider that faeries are hiding amongst us (okay, possibly I do some), however I’m engaged on rediscovering that pleasure and magic that I discovered in these tales. What I do know is that this: regardless of the laborious stuff or the strain of life, books jogged my memory that different’s tales, whether or not fictional or not, are therapeutic and shared experiences make the world a greater place.
